Treasure Unwanted
by Aemeth
Summary: When Fleur sets eyes on Hermione she knows she is her destined mate... but she has no intention of accepting a choice made for her. Desperate she starts to fight a battle with her own nature... no matter the consequences. Fleur/Hermione
1. Frozen

In most stories Fleur embraces her veela heritage and the idea of mating for life. I thought Fleur has a strong personality and is stubborn, wouldn't it make sense if she'd be repulsed by her 'mate' first? If you wondered too, this is you story :) Enjoy!

* * *

Unlike most of these Hogwarts students seemed to think there had been a reason Dumbledore had placed the Beauxbatons on the Ravenclaw table of all. Here most people had enough intelligence and dignity to resist the veela thrall so far as to be able to have a conversation with her.  
Fleur welcomed this and made a point of siting in front of a specially tall and quiet boy who shielded her from the all too blunt stares from the Gryffindor table.  
Inwardly she gave a deep sigh. How excited she had been to visit this school! The oldest and most respected one in whole of Europe, headed by maybe the most famous living wizard! But so far British people seemed to display an unbecoming paradox of overdone reserve and barely hidden nosiness and had through fully disappointed her.  
What had even -  
"Fleur?"  
With little effort she put on a smile and looked down to her little sister, Gabrielle.  
"Qui, ma douce?"  
"Il fait si froid ici..."  
Gently the older witch gathered the lite girl in her arms, rubbing her warm.  
"I know, Gabrielle, it is too cold 'ere. Zis country is far from 'ome. Neverzeless maman told you to try learning zis language, non? So please make an effort."  
Her sister answered by scrunching her forehead together in concentration.  
"I wold like to 'ave zis... écharpe?"  
"A scarf? What scarf?"  
Gabrielle pointed at the Gryffindor table. Fleur looked up in the direction and felt an electric shock go though her.  
For a moment her sight blurred, her heat pounded and she felt as if a storm was dancing in her stomach, a deep growl threatening to escape her throat.  
Gasping she shook her head and the first thing she saw when she regained her sight was a delicate neck just disappearing as two slender hands wrapped a crimson scarf around it and a mane of brown hair falling over a feminine back, covering the skin.  
Fleur felt herself stand up and magnetcley be pulled to this table. She was vaguely aware of her sister's irritated calls but her eyes remained trained onto this sea of brown and red.  
Finally she stood closely behind the young woman; no, girl, and was over flooded with a beguiling smell... and finally it clicked in.  
She froze.  
No. No, no, no, no, NO!  
It couldn't be. She swore to herself it never would.  
The first Gryffindor boy spotted her and immediately began drooling.  
She knew she had to react quickly before she had the whole table's attention. And going back was no option either since she would seem like a fool and that was something a Delacour never did.  
And than she saw her saving straw.  
"Excuse me", she asked out to the blue. "Are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"  
At least six heads turned to her, goggling.  
Among them where a redheaded boy, whose head turned quickly to purple, a black messy haired one that seemed strangley familiar for some reason and of course her doom.  
Two frighteningly intelligent chocolate brown eyes fell on her and she turned away before she made out more features.  
The only one trying to speak was the redhead, but all he managed was a row of poorly accumulated sounds.  
"Yeah, have it", the black haired one said finally, passing the dish up.  
"You 'ave finished wiz it?"  
"Yeah," redhead coughed. "Yeah, it was delicious."  
She heard a snort from doom's direction.  
She muttered a thank you and returned to the Ravenclaw table on wobbly legs.  
Many pairs of eyes followed her back, some craving, others jealous and one... deciphering, digging.  
"What 'ave you done?", her friend Emanuelle asked.  
"I asked for... for a scarf for Gabrielle."  
Emanuelle raised her brows.  
"Zis is a strange kind of scarf", she said but Fleur wasn't listening anymore. She was only aware of her sister's little hand and worried eyes on her and the deep, raging anger welling up in body, usurping the other feelings force onto her out of nowhere.  
She wouldn't allow this to happen. So Merlin help her she wouldn't.  
Brown and gold danced on her eyes as she started to put bouillabaisse on her plate.

* * *

Forgive me for using the bouillabaisse scene once again, but it's a classic! Reviews are very much appreciated.


	2. Charade

Wow, I'm amazed at the interest in this story! So as a thank you here's chapter two, but don't get used to daily updates! ;) The beginning is slow paced, as I'm a fan of character change and also the fact that even enamored people have other relationships. But don't worry, we get some action soon! Have fun! - Aemeth

* * *

Dust particles entered the softly lit Gryffindor common room, traveling in the sun rays that bathed Hermione Granger in a golden light. The young witch was currently curled up in on of the sofas, reading eagerly in a giant tomb titled: _Where hast though learned? A history of wizard schools in Europe._

Only one week since their foreign guests had arrived and she already felt embarrassed about her classmates' continued lack of interest in the new cultures that now populated Hogwarts' halls.

True, most of the Durmstrangs kept to themselves and everything she had overheard from the Beauxbatons had been complains or gossip but honestly it was what you heart of most Hogwarts students either when passing them by so there was still hope.

When she turned a page dust fell onto Harry, who was sitting to her feet , the broomstick servicing kit she had given him to his birthday beside him.

He coughed. "Honestly, Hermione - it takes quite long to clean a firebolt, you know?"

Hermione chuckled. Normally her best friend never would have snapped at this, good natured as he was; but no one was to mess with his firebolt! Boys and their brooms.

"Sorry, Harry."

"What are you reading there?"

"I'm doing some research on Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. It's fascinating! Look how beautiful the Beauxbatons palace is... and here, the Norwegian Hypogriffs of Durmstrang -"

"What? Let me see that." Harry cranked his neck to look at the moving illustrations.

"Heard they've got a different meal plan every year", Ron sad from one of the armchairs.

"Wonder why we can't have that?"

Both Harry and Hermione glared at him and he shrugged. "My great aunt Muriel was a exchange student there, when she was young. She keeps bragging about 'til today."

Hermione smiled a little sad. Truth was, she would have given a lot to have an experience like that... getting to know a different culture, learn a different language... not to be in life danger for a change...

"Oh, I would love to do this. But apparently Dumbledore doesn't find it too advisable. That this barbaric tournament is the first international schools gathering in _34 _years speaks for itself!"

Ron scoffed. "C'mmon. Do you want to be in _Durmstrang_ where they learn the dark arts? You know what Malfoy said."

"Oh, as if I could leave, Ronald. What would you two do without me anyway?"

The trio laughed in unison when at once the portrait swang open. A shriek of protest from the fat lady, a timid English response, followed by a not so timid french one, robe hustling and before they knew it their cozy common room had filled with a colorful bunch of french people lead by Ian Hatels, a spotty Gryffindor prefect.

Just for a short moment the crowd silenced when they took in the three wizards sprawled over the seats, Harry adorned with the yellow globes of his set, Ron with his shirt half open and Hermione with a book as big as her torso in her lap.

Ian cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Ahem. Professor McGonagall ordered my to give the Beauxbatons students a tour though the castle. If you three could -"

"I WON'T HAVE ANY NONE-GRYFFINDORS IN THESE ROOMS!", bellowed the fat Lady from her portrait. "AND NONE-BRITISH TOO - WE KNOW WHERE THIS LEADS, WITH MADAME PUBERTINE FROM FIFTH FLOOR -"

"Bon sang, zis Bbrittiz portraits have manners like poltergeists", one french girl exclaimed.

A short pause.

"I DO NOT UNDERSTAND A WORD OF WHAT YOU ARE SAYING! SPEAK ENGLISH IN THIS CASTLE, YOU LITTLE FRENCH -"

"Madame, I assure you we will not be 'ere longer than necessary", a pleasant voice chimed in.

Ron gave a squik and Hermione frowned.

The bouillabaisse girl had stepped forward, or the Veela girl as she quickly had risen to fame in Hogwarts.

Hermione hadn't liked her from the first moment she had layed eyes on her. Everything, from her soft creamy skin, the fine robes to the shimmer of her light blond hair and her overstretched stance screamed of money and _superior _origin. Not to mention her neevr ending complaints about things as _decorations!_

Of course it would be silly to deny that she was astonishingly beautiful, but it was the french woman's- Hermione did not dare call her a girl - obvious awareness of this fact that distorted it in her eyes. Not to speak of her arrogant demeanor and the incredulous effect she seemed to have on the male population and a good portion of the female one as well.

Unfortunately the Fat lady seemed to be included in this group as she continued grumbling but let the french be.

Bouillabaisse girl scrutinized them with her icy blue eyes, then elegantly nodded her head.

"Good Evening. I am Fleur Delacour."

"Evening", Harry and Hermione said in unison.

"Glbrh", said Ron.

"Get yourself together!", hissed Hermione and immediately she felt Delacour's eyes on her. For some reason she blushed, probably out of embarrassment for Ron. But her new found attention didn't seem to be of the flattering kind; the french woman's eyes narrowed and her nose sides quivered.

Ian cleared his throat again.

"Well anyway, I think it better if you could -"

"But it's the common room!", Harry protested. "We won't bother them."

"The matter is not up for discussion, Potter! As prefect -"

"Potter?", echoed a few of the Beauxbatons.

"'Arry Potter?", asked Fleur Delacour.

Hermione clamped her book shut, a dust cloud evoking into the faces of the foreigners.

"Yes, it's Harry Potter! Merlin's beard! Now could you -"

But she trailed of at the unusual silence that met her. Harry as well looked pleasantly confused.

The foreigners stared at him but no one asked any further questions and before anything further could be said Ian, apparently wishing to take charge again, started rattling down his sentences about the furniture of the Griyffindor's common room.

The Beauxbatons turned their attention politely to him and Harry made a wise choice and used this opportunity to usher Ron to the stairs leading to the boy's dormitory. When he came back he stopped hesitatingly on the stairs.

Only Hermione remained in the sofa and when Ian lead the group to the painting wall of the room only Fleur Delacour didn't move.

She stood with her hands clasped behind her blue robes, a somewhat illuminated spot in the dim room, fixing the Gryffindor girl.

"So you play Quidditch, Monsieur Potter?", she asked without taking her eyes from Hermione.

"Huh?", Harry made."Uhm, yes. I'm the Gryffindor seeker." Hermione thanked God that at least one of her friends could behave reasonably in front of this girl. She just hoped she didn't plan on seducing him...

"Zat is good to know." Harry opened his mouth but before he could reply Ron's red hair appeared on the dormitory entry and he excused himself, quickly pushing Ron back in.

All the while the ice eyes hadn't moved from their aim.

Hermione put up with it for serval seconds, before she rolled her eyes.

"Yes? Can I do something for you?"

The french blinked.

After some silence she pointed at Hermione's book.

"You 'ave an interest in Beauxbatons?", she asked in an even voice.

"Why? Oh, this. This is for an assignment in... history."

"Is it? I zought french history isn't taught here until ze seventh year?"

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"We-well, it isn't... I mean it is, how would you know about it?"

The blond raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow at her.

"Monsieur Binns has told us the plan of the semester zis morning."

"Oh. Well. Maybe the plan is different for the international students."

She could have sworn a quick smirk had ran over the other girl's lips.

"If you say so."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together.

"Perhaps you should spend some attention to your guide if you're so eager to know everything better!"

Fleur's face went to stone again.

"Per'aps I should", she replied stiffly. With that she turned away swiftly before abruptly turning around again.

"Good evening, Miss...?"

Hermione huffed.

"Have a good evening too."

With that she heaved the heavy book upwards and left the room as quickly as possible.

* * *

Yay for the golden Trio friendship! If I make English mistakes point them out, but please don't forget it isn't my native language and I'm using it so more people can read this story. Oh and if anyone wants to correct my horrid french,please do so :) I'm always thankful for reviews.


	3. Thin ice

I probably should work, but I couldn't resist writing... by the way enjoy the humor in the beginning, it's going to get darker.

* * *

After days and days in which Harry and all the members of the team had lamented the absence of Quidditch this year and the bad weather in every possible way, one Saturday Hermione had enough. She threw their brooms in their arms and dragged them outside to the grounds. It had rained the other night an the Scottish landscape was at it's most beautiful; the green and brown hills saturated with water shone softly in the gray-golden sunlight, sneaking through they heavy clouds and reflecting on the lake in ghostlike patterns.

So Hermione sat under a tree, wrapped in a white woolen sweater and wrote on her potions essay, while occasionally looking up smiling to Harry, Fred, George and Angelina hunting Quaffles.

Even after the others had left, Harry stayed in the sky, practicing maneuvers, his red robes flying around him in a wild mess. A trace of worry crept into Hermione's smile. It was only one week after the champions had been announced and she knew not so much the mystery behind his appointment as the exclusion from most of the Hogwarts students lay heavy on his heart.

She found their behavior incredulous, but wasn't to surprised about it. It was how people were.

It was good to see him smile, though, his face redden by the wind.

The goblet's choice however had surprised her in more aspects than one. That it had chosen Fleur Delacour of all Beauxbatons - it had amazed her to no end. Then on the other hand, she hardly new anything about the girl apart from the ridiculous rumors she was part Veela. Surely many powerful wizards were bigheads as she was...

With a soft sigh she finished her essay and contently leaned back, watching her friend when her brow creased;

A new figure from the direction of the forests quickly come closer. The person was adorned with blue Quidditch robes and obviously female.. maybe a Ravenclaw? But no, the blue was too light..

Than Hermione spotted the silvery blond her hair and her eyes widened.

Breathing shallowly she watched how Fleur Delacour neared Harry and how the two greeted. After a while they started flying together and Hermione heard the Beauxbatons champion's

bright laughter. It was an unnervingly beautiful sound.

* * *

Harry watched in high concentration as Fleur showed him a technique to outwit bludgers.

The french witch had surprised him to no end, appearing out of nowhere and politely asking, if she might join in his practice. It turned out that she was a decent chaser and he was eager to take her advise. It was astonishing how her cold demeanor changed when she was in the air and Harry actually found her to be good company.

"... and zen you pull back you broom so you stands 'orizental in the aire... yes, like zis."

"Wow!", Harry quickly went back to his normal position. "Don't you make yourself a bigger target like that?"

The french girl laughed and for a moment Harry felt his stomach flutter, but he quickly got rid of it. He didn't understand how the other boys couldn't tell it was just some strange kind of magic.. it felt unnatural and unbecoming. Just as he couldn't understand how Hermione could deny the Beauxbatons champion was a veela. He looked down at her and saw that her relaxed smile had been replaced by an intent glare. Huh? Maybe she was tired of waiting on him.

"No, 'arry. If you move quickly enough, ze bludger will change it's direction and fly upward."

Harry smiled. "Well, that's a great technique, Fleur, thanks for showing it to me.

But maybe we should head down no, I think Hermione has had enough waiting."

Suddenly the other witches marble expression returned to her face.

Slowly she turned her gaze downwards.

"'ermione?", she whispered breathlessly. "Zat is 'er name?"

"Ya. She isn't a big Quidditch fan, but she likes watching from time to time. And she seems to be... well, the only one that actually believes me."

Fleur's eyes flickered to him, many emotions dancing in her eyes for a moment, before gazing downwards again.

"You zink 'igh of each ozer."

Harry frowned.

"I take it you don't believe me, either?"

"It is not a question of believing you, 'arry. I do not zink it is right to allow a boy to take part in such a dangerous affair. But the goblet has chosen you and Dumbledore does not seem the... ah, 'ow do you say... type to me to cheat on us. So whatever you must 'ave done shows you are powerful enough to cheat an old device like zis. But you must admit zat this tournament no longer can be fair, with two 'ogwarts champions?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Ya, I guess you're right. But whatever you think, I didn't... let's forget about this and go down."

Fleur gripped her broom stick tighter, somewhat nervous.

"Actually, 'arry, I zink I might return to my carriage. It is already late -"

"Oh, come on! We have pumpkin juice." For some reason Harry didn't want to end this first decently good moment with someone else than Hermione on such bad terms.

So he steered his broom down and soon he felt Fleur hesitatingly join him.

Suddenly Hermione made wild gestures at him and he looked at her quizzically.

That was when he heard the unpleasantly familiar creek and growling of a deep wooden sound. He froze.

"Oh no. Fleur! Get down here, before -"

* * *

Hermione shouted out to them but it was to late. When the summer faded,the whomping willow was infamously known for shedding it's branches heavily from time to time. The result was a cloud of gnarled wooden splinters, cutting the air and just today the wind was so strong that it carried even over here.

She pressed her hands to her mouth when the splinters reached Harry and Fleur.

Both Riders protected themselves with their arms, balancing on their brooms freehandedly, but though the soaring noise she heard two groans of pain.

After a few seconds the storm was over, the splinters carried on with Harry and Fleur landing on uncertain feed.

"Oh God, Harry! Are you alright?", she called to him, jumping up and running over, clutching his arm.

He was a mess and sprinkled with mud but apart from a bruise on his chin he seemed alright.

"I'm fine Hermione, thanks. I never saw the willow's splinters getting so far! Uhm, are you alright Fleur?"

The french witch had one hand pressed to her face. "Mon Dieu! What on earz was zat?!"

Harry picked a few twigs from his hair. "The whomping willow, a... well, pretty grumpy tree. Hermione and I actually have a history with it..." Fleur removed her hand and stared at him as though he was mad. That was when Hermione saw her face.

She gasped when she saw the nasty cut on the Beauxbatons' cheek and stepped to her.

"Oh. Oh, you should... you really should that have looked at. Oh, and it's got mud all over it..."

She stepped even closer to the french girl, ignoring her protests, and gently brought her hand to her face. She noticed how soft the skin felt under her fingertips and for the first time she realized by looking at the ugly contrast of fresh blood on white, that it literally glowed a little.

It seemed more and more that the gossip was true and Fleur Delacour had a t least some non human blood in her.

Spreading her fingers around the edges of the cut Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and said:

"Aquarius."

Water purred slowly from her tips and cleaned the mud and splinters out of the wound. When she was done Hermione looked satisfied at the cleaned gash, before making the mistake of raising her gaze.

For an instant two blue ice shards bored into her very soul... and in the next moment a hand snapped forward and enclosed her own in an iron grip.

"Au!"

"Fleur?", Harry asked confused.

Fleur stared at their hands, her grip tightening even further, the Quidditch leather glove bruising Hermione's skin... heat rose from the contact, shooting through her veins towards her fast beating heart...

and without warning the french let go so that Hermione stumbled back, releasing the girl from her touch.

Fleur kept staring at her and released a sharp breath. Probably she couldn't believe the nerve Hermione had to touch her. Harry looked from one to the other.

"Vous pouvez...you can perform... wandless magic?"

Harry laughed awkwardly and nudged Hermione's shoulder, who twitched at the contact.

"Hermione here is the best student of our year, maybe of the whole school. If you knew what else she can do, you wouldn't be surprised by this."

"I... understand."

Hermione desperately tied to regain control over her bumping heart. For a short moment Fleur touched the cut on her cheek before straightening her robes.

A flash of annoyance broke through Hermione's whirling emotions as she noticed that even in mudden Quidditch robes and messy hair filled by twigs, the french girl somehow managed too look gorgeous.

"Well. Zank you, 'er... 'ermione. Zough I was perfectly able to do zis myself."

_She knows your name!_ a happy voice in Hermione's head announced. Where had that come from? Harry who just took a sip from the pumpkin juice flask, passed it to Fleur with a nervous smile. The blond threw her head back and drank in one deep swallow, baring her sweat glistening throat to the sun. The ivory skin moved quickly over a raised pulse. Hermione swallowed, her head turned red, from anger and something else she couldn't exactly identify.

"Oh, of course. Right. Harry, we should go, dinner has already started."

"Wh-, uhm Fleur?", Harry called back when she dragged him to the castle, "The sick bay is on-"

"I know where it is, zank you 'arry. Zank you for the flying", Hermione heard her say faintly and only when they reached the giant entrance she turned her head.

Fleur still stood where they had left her, a blue spot on the grounds, dusk falling in.

Even from so far she felt her watching them. Hermione grabbed Harry by his wrist and pulled him behind the gate.

"What in Merlin's name was that?!", she exclaimed.

"You tell me!"

"Who does she think she is?!"

Harry leaned over and carefully sneaked over the gate's edge..

"She was actually ok when we were up there. Maybe one of the splinters struck her head or something?" Hermione huffed.

"Is that a reason to thank someone who helped you, no matter how absolutely unacceptable you behaved towards them, in that way?!"

"I guess? I don't know. I don't think she meant it."

"Bloody yes she did!"

"Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry!", Hermione shouted.

But she was angry. Angry at that accursed, arrogant, bipolar, crazy french witch and at at herself that she felt so strongly about her. Usually she was good at ignoring such people, knowing they weren't worth her time.

_She is the champion of Beauxbatons, chosen by an ancient magic device _retorted that damn voice in her head._ Shouldn't that count for something?_

Maybe it chose her because her attitude annoyed it so much, it decided to teach her a lesson by sending her into that tournament!


	4. Lower the wall, unsheath your claws

Thank you again, kind reviewers, it means much to me. Keep them coming! Big thanks to the awesome Arwen Wolfe for editing this chapter! Well, let's get back to our two favorite tormented witches!

* * *

The library was quiet when Hermione scampered through the rows of dozens of bookshelves.  
The last few weeks had been eventful, to say the least. She hadn't been able to sleep well until three days after the first task, haunted by the barbaric pictures of dragons hunting teenagers with powerful wizards by standing and applauding. But one good thing had sprung from all this - after the task Ron and Harry finally settled their silly fight and she had hugged them, overcome with joy.  
She blushed a little at what had happened afterwards. She remembered it very clearly...

_Over Harry's shoulder she caught a glimpse of silver and looked up. There, half hidden by a white curtain, lay Fleur Delacour. The French witch seemed to be sleeping, her body covered by bandages. Her dragon seemed to have burned her pretty badly, but when Hermione noticed the amount of exposed skin she hurriedly turned her gaze away. Though soon she found it wandering back to the sleeping girl. How beautiful she was, when she wasn't scowling at her. _  
_She seemed softer and younger, and for the umpteenth time Hermione wondered what she had done to deserve her harsh, strange treatment. She had observed the witch closely these last few days and found that her behavior, however snooty in general, was much more amiable to the three or five of her French companions that seemed to be her friends; especially to the youngest girl in the Beauxbatons group, who shared Fleur's silvery hair... Hermione wondered if they were related. Her conclusion was that one had to deserve recognition from Delacour. Hermione loathed people who thought only some special few were worth human treatment, but at least now she knew the Veela - Harry had confirmed her heritage after the calibration of wands - was capable of it. It had made her jump when Fleur's eyes snapped open. They seemed dazed and for while they just watched her before they widened and she pulled the covers over body, almost timidly. Then Madame Pomfrey and the little girl with silver hair had stood before her and the curtain was closed._

Yes, the Veela had given her a good deal to think about...

Lately, however, Hermione was on the run from Viktor Krum, the third champion that seemed to give her a lot of headaches recently.  
Whenever she was alone he seemed to appear, though he never talked to her. Just watched, and watched, and watched.  
Hurriedly, Hermione turned a corner, when she made out the shape of his head once again.  
"If you are looking to 'ide, zis is a good place."  
Hermione spun around and saw Fleur Delacour in the window booth behind her.  
It was the first time Hermione had seen her since the first task in the tent, her body bandaged and eyes closed in pain. Today she looked beautiful as ever in black jeans and a simple beige cotton shirt, but something was off about her.  
The French witch looked up at her with a deep look of tiredness contorting her face, her eyes softer than usual.  
Hermione paused.  
"This is a window. Whoever would hide here?"  
Fleur pointed to a group of giggling girls nearby, who had moving posters and photos of Krum with them.  
"'e never goes near zem, if 'e can 'elp it."  
The choice was a difficult one: a quiet stalker or an arrogant snob - however Fleur's strange fatigue made her the safer one for the moment and so Hermione lowered herself down to the booth, careful not to touch the other girl.  
"Thank you", she murmured.  
Fleur looked at her for a moment and opened her mouth, only to close it and lower her eyes to the book in her lap.  
Hermione studied her subtly, trying to find what it was about the girl that struck her differently today .  
"Your hair," the comment unintentionally slipped out of her mouth.  
"Pardon?"  
Hermione blushed a little. "Your hair. It's the first time I've seen you wearing it down."  
Fleur stared at her incredulously. Then something unexplainable happened: she smiled.  
It was a rare, beautiful smile that lit up the angelic features of the part Veela, and, against her will, made Hermione herself smile back a little.  
"In Beauxbatons it is considered impudent to wear one's 'air down as a student. Don't your teachers, ah... reprimand you?"  
Hermione heard herself chuckle. "My teachers? That would hardly be fair. Have you looked at Professor Binn's or Professor Dumbledore's hair?"  
Fleur just tilted her head. Hermione wished she had laughed at her joke. "Does it not bozer you when you are writing?"  
Hermione's stomach made a little turn. God, what was happening to her?  
"No, it doesn't. I prefer my hair down", she whispered to herself.  
When she looked back up Fleur had her fingers pressed onto her eyes.  
"Are you alright?"  
With a deep sigh Fleur let her her hand sink again, and almost as if not there, it ghosted down and came to rest on Hermione's leg. The Veela watched her as she gently ran it up to the Gryffindor's calf, resting it there eventually.  
Fleur's expression was pained. "Non, ma belle. Zere is nozing wrong wiz me", she sighed.

* * *

The angelic girl in front of her stared at the hand on her calf, as if it was a spider.  
This is a good thing, Fleur told herself. The contact with soft flesh beneath her fingertips was maddening, whatever strange dolls threads the Veela in her played, pulling tighter, demanding she increased the touch. Fleur stroked the brunette's leg ever so slightly and beneath the thin material of her tights she could see a little birthmark on Hermione's skin.  
A loud fit of giggles emerged from the girls on the other side and it made them both jump a little.  
A bunch of boys had joined them, however their attention was solely fixed onto Fleur, as she was all too aware of.  
Hermione shook her head and leaned forward, her sparkling eyes full of curiosity.  
"Doesn't this bother you? Always having a trail of admirers behind you, no matter what you wear or what you do?"  
Fleur's heart sank at what these words implied. She let her head sink to the window and averted her eyes to the Scottish hills outside.  
"You 'ave beautiful grounds 'ere", she whispered absently, her hand memorizing the feel of the other girl's leg. Lately, it had become increasingly harder to ignore the feelings this girl arose in her.  
On the sleepless first night Fleur had arrived here she had come to a conclusion; she would deal with the unwanted object of her unnatural desire the same way she dealt with her little sister's harp. Fleur had never wanted the harp itself. The reason for her desire lay in the fact that her mother had given the instrument freely to Gabrielle once she had asked for it, whereas she, as a little girl, had had to beg for her piano. Proud of their heritage, Fleur's mother never ceased to be unsettled at Fleur's skepticism for the subject. However, her stories of romantic destined love that lasted forever fell on fertile ground with her little sister. Fleur still remembered the childish sting of jealousy she had felt as a girl when Gabrielle received the harp, and it had ever since then been a symbol of their mother's preference of Gabrielle. But she loved to hear her sisterplay, and so she locked away the silly longing, as she did with so many penalties caused by her cursed nature.  
Hermione wouldn't be an exception. She told herself.

In the beginning it had been fairly easy, for Hermione displayed several obvious faults: lack of taste (she seemed to harbor secret feelings for this Weasley boy), snootiness, impatience and -  
"You haven't answered my question."  
...now the burden seemed to get heavier every day.  
With all of her willpower Fleur forced herself to look at the younger girl in front of her.  
Hermione's posture was a strange one - a natural kind of pride and yet an awkward and shy demeanor, as if she didn't have the slightest clue of how caring and smart she was.  
What an appalling case of insecurity! Her intelligence should not allow it.  
She looked straight into her eyes.  
Chocolate. The wooden ceiling of her favorite cafe in Lyon. The smell of sweet chestnuts on an autumn afternoon.  
"You are familiar wiz my nature, zen", she stated.  
Hermione hesitated before she averted her gaze.  
"I'm sorry. It wasn't my place to ask."  
"Oui, it wasn't."  
There was a short pause with both trying hard not to look at each other.  
"It is tiring", Fleur offered after a while. "Who would want somezing like zis?"  
Hermione scoffed. "Don't act like you're not aware of how many people would die for this."  
"Well... you yourself seem to 'ave a suitor following you. 'ow do you find it?"  
"I haven't - oh. You mean Viktor."  
"Viktor," Fleur repeated, as neutrally as possible.  
Both girls stretched their necks to get a glimpse of the Bulgarian, who quickly hid in the shadows of a nearby book shelf.  
"I don't know what he wants from me. Maybe he knows I'm helping Harry on the second task and hopes to get clues. How are you dealing with this, by the way?"  
She seemed desperate to change the subject.  
Fleur gave a callous laugh.  
"'e is going to ask you to the Yule ball, sotte. Do you not realize zis?!"  
Suddenly her voice had turned louder and Fleur was shocked to hear her jealousy in her own voice.  
Hermione looked surprised at her outburst.  
She opened and closed her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest.  
"What is your problem with me?! From the first moment I met you, you have been nothing but unfriendly to me and yet you seem to be all over me all the time! And now you help me get away from a stalking boy just to snap at me again!"  
The giggling of the admirers died down. Everyone looked at them.  
Fleur bent over so Hermione could hear her lowered voice. It did not escape her how beautiful the other witch looked with flushed cheeks.  
"I'll 'ave you know I am _not_ all over you!" she hissed.  
"Yes, you are!"  
This exact moment was chosen by Gabrielle to turn the corner, in her hand a colorful children's book. The excitement in her eyes died somewhat when she saw the two heated witches in front of her. Fleur wondered what she had done wrong in a past life to deserve this.  
Gabrielle's clear eyes scrolled from one to the other.  
"Fleur, est-ce la fille que t'énerve tant?"  
Fleur took a deep breath to calm down a little.  
"Gabrielle, s'il vous plaît donnez-moi un instant."  
But her loving sister looked dangerously at Hermione.  
"Qu'est-ce qu'elle a fait à vous?" What she had done to her? Where even to begin to explain?  
In that moment Hermione whirled around furiously, her hair whipping into Fleur's face.  
"Je n'ai rien fait à elle!" Hermione shouted at Gabrielle.  
It was like a bucket of ice water poured over Fleur's head.  
Several students surrounding them gasped.  
"Vous parlez français?" Gabrielle asked, abashed.  
Hermione's features softened a bit looking at the child before her. It was Gabrielle, after all.  
"Je ne parle pas très bien."  
Fleur threw her hands up. "Zis keeps getting better and better."  
The brunette threw her a long thoughtful glance. Fleur felt as though she was being x-rayed.  
"You like Harry don't you?" Hermione finally asked in a whisper.  
Fleur's eyes widened.  
"Excusez-moi?"  
Hermione nodded her head, like she was assured.  
"You seem jealous of me. And this seems likely. I don't know if it's him, or Viktor or just the fact that some boys don't happen to like you, but whatever it is that you find so revolting about me, I suggest you keep away from me. If that stands in your conquest's way, I'm deeply sorry."  
Only now Fleur noticed her hand was buried in the other girls calf. For a moment it seemed as if her nails had lengthened a bit and she hastily removed it. In silent horror she looked at her slightly sharpened fingertips.  
"So zis is your conclusion?" Her words, now in English again, sounded bitter to her own ears.  
Hermione looked taken aback. She shrugged. "If you don't offer an explanation this is all I have."  
"Zen I guess I 'ave nothing further to say."  
Fleur tried hard to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat and when she felt Gabrielle's small hand on her own she clutched it tightly. Try as she might, Fleur couldn't read the kaleidoscope of emotions flickering over Hermione's face.  
The Veela's screams inside her almost overpowered her senses by now. Through a blur she saw how Hermione smiled weakly at Gabrielle. "Is this your sister?" she asked, her voice hoarse but impossibly soft.  
Her muscles weak, Fleur put an arm around Gabrielle and pulled her closer.  
"Oui. Gabrielle, il s'agit 'ermione. 'ermione, I present to you... ma petite soeur, Gabrielle."  
Hermione nodded a few times. Gabrielle just watched her with attentive eyes.  
"Well. You two look very much alike."  
Hermione swept a hand over her brow and collected her bag, which looked to be filled by far too many books for such a slender back.  
"I think it's better I leave you two alone now", she said without looking at either of them. She stood up and immediately Fleur missed her warmth on the booth.  
"I'll see you at the ball, Fleur." The French witch watched the mane of brown, how it vanished in the direction of Viktor Krum until it disappeared. Slowly her fingernails grew back to their normal length and the screams in her head ebbed down a little. Fleur released a painful breath.


	5. All the shades of you

Here we go with my favorite chapter so far! Here the real story begins. Before anyone says something, the mistakes in Viktor's dialog are on purpose due to his lack of English. Thank you so much for your reviews, they really motivate me! :)

* * *

It was supposed to be the day. The day the world would finally realize that Hermione Granger, notorious bookworm and savior of the day was more than hat... the day it would realize she was also a girl. A part of her resented herself for the need to prove this, but another part... well, just was a girl and was tired of being ignored.

The long hours spend at Madame Malkin's were still fresh in her mind, how for the first time in her life she had truly spend a day on picking clothes. Finally she had chosen her dress robes more by accident. She had stood there, watching her reflection in the mirror curiously wondering who that person was, adorned into the shades of green and blue,when Madame Malkin said:

_"This one has all the colors of the sea. I made it in my husbands home, in France... have you been there?"_

_"Yes, Madame, just this summer. By the sea as well. In the Côte d'Azur."_

_"Ah! Beautiful landscape... some fine wizard families down there... have you met them?"_

_"I'm afraid not. I've been there with my muggle parents, you see."_

_"How silly of me to forget! Still, you should take it for the memory. It looks beautiful on you."_

_"Thank you. I do like the sea..."_

Now, hiding in a shady corner just outside the great hall with students passing her by she wondered if the Delacours where one those fine wizard families and what fine in Wizard-France meant - while at the same time wondering why she kept thinking so much about all matters slightly concerning the champion of Beauxbatons.

With a deep, nervous breath she dusted down her shimmering robe. Madame Milkin had been wrong about it holding all the shades of the sea... it missed the silvery blue of a cold sunny day, damped by a fine morning mist, almost icy...

... well, it might by better this way. Otherwise her robes would likely have depraved in her eyes.

She straightened. _You're a Gryffindor. You can and will do this._

And with that she finally left her hide out and presented herself to the world.

Faintly through the sound of her pounding heart she heard curious questions of who she was... some sneered, some whispered... but most of them gasped.

She couldn't fully hide the proud smile coming to her lips as Viktor Krum approached her, fine in his robes and with a not so grumpy expression and performed an exemplary bow to her.

"You look very beautiful, Hermy-own-ninny", he greeted her.

She smiled at him fondly. The truth was, when Fleur had revealed his assumed attentions towards her, she couldn't believe it. Yet, just minutes after their strange encounter the Bulgarian had asked her in all form to accompany him to the Yule ball.

Of course she didn't know him yet but so far he had behaved nothing but respectfully and friendly towards her, not counting his prior stalking. The few conversations they had had since she accepted his invitation had been surprisingly pleasant. He was a good listener, unlike her impossible 'friend' Ronald. He probably didn't have a clue how much he had hurt her, by asking her to the ball... and in such a manner!

It added to her hurt that Harry, after all she'd done for him, like always didn't take sides.

She looked forward to meet them tonight with a tinge of bitterness.

"Thank you Viktor. You also look very well."

He offered her his arm and they entered the hall. Viktor was good at ignoring the mummers they arouse wherever hey set food on - she guessed he was used to it. She however was aware of every eye, kind, jealous, incredulous.

She tried her best to shut them out but at one point the whispers suddenly turned different in tone and became a lot more masculine in voice; a strange feeling took hold of her, part anxious, part excited. Slowly she turned around.

She was met with a breathtakingly beautiful sight:

a tall and lean Fleur Delacour, adorned in icy blue-silvery robes that gently clang to her body and revealed quite a lot of her pale, shimmering skin. She looked like an ice crystal.

Every boy in the range of eight meters gaped at her and Hermione found herself joining them.

The Veela's eyes fixed on her and her blood froze.

Quickly she looked away and suddenly became aware of a tug on her arm.

"Is something wrong, Hermy-own-ninny?", Viktor asked.

"Wha- I mean, yes, no, I'm fine - "

"Then let us join the other champions."

"What?!"

The Bulgarian now looked at her with serious concern in his eyes.

"You yourself told me the champions would open the ball."

Hermione stroked a strand of her pinned up hair back. "Uhm, yes I know. I know I said that. It's just that, I don't yet feel quite ready to, uhm -"

"Has there been...", Viktor clearly struggled with his English, "...bad blood between you and Fleur?"

Hermione stared at him in alarm.

"Why would you think that?"

"She has been staring at you very...vile, since we've been here."

Hermione continued to look at him, now with a look of admiration her eyes. It was an alarming sign she spent too much time with Harry and Ron that an observing boy seemed like something unnatural to her.

She pondered his question in silence for a moment. Had there been bad blood between the two of them? No, it wasn't right to put it like that. Weird blood, that was more like it. She hadn't talked to anyone about it for that exact reason; in all honesty she couldn't define what was going on between her and Fleur Delacour, apart from it being strange and bad to both of them.

"I... I have no idea", she replied truthfully. "I seem to anger her for some reason but I really don't know why."

The lines on Krum's forehead deepened.

"Hermy-own-ninny, are you aware that Fleur - "

"Mr Krumm!", Professor Mcgonagall's sharp voice cut him of and they both turned around.

"Ah, there you are! And Miss Granger! Quickly, you most join the other champions, the ball is about to begin."

Before they could protest the elder witch had ushered them to the entrance, so they nearly stumbled into Cedric and Cho. They exchanged polite greetings.

"Good evening, Fleur", Krum addressed the french champion with a strange respect echoing in his words.

"'ello Viktor." Hermione frowned and watched as she took the Bulgarian by his shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks in french manner.

However her face fell apart when suddenly she herself was gripped by two slender hands.

Fleur looked intently into her eyes. Then she lent down and pressed two soft kisses to her cheeks, skin brushing on skin, an intoxicating smell washing over her. Her lips felt like wet pedals to her and when they and the hands left her, she shook her head out of trance.

"'ello 'ermione", Fleur greeted her neutrally.

"Hi", Hermione replied weakly. She was deeply troubled. Since Harry had confirmed Fleur's nature she had started an intensive research on Veela. How disappointingly small the amount of books on the subject was, she had gathered they were high classified creatures living mainly in Eastern Europe. She had recognized their astonishing powers from the incident at the Quidditch world cup but also found new ones... like the thrall which she had witnessed all to much now in the reactions of every boy in school. However it was always stated that it affected _solely _men... and yet at times like this, Hermione felt it was affecting her a little as well. After a casual side comment to Professor Mcgonagall she had learned that the little that was known about the Veela was hardly reliable. Maybe it wasn't the thrall but some other mysterious ability but whatever it was - for the first time in her life Hermione wasn't sure anymore she wanted to find out.

Fleur nodded and took the arm of Roger Davies, who flashed his painfully white teeth at her.

When Harry and Parvati joined them she desperately turned her attention to him.

* * *

Three hours later her feed hurt from all the dancing, her cheeks were flushed and she was out of breath but she beamed and everything in the enchanted great hall seemed beautiful. She sat in a quiet corner waiting for Viktor to return with drinks and watched the dancing couples.

Said dancing had turned suspiciously more unsteady over the evening and after seeing Fed and George doing a triumphant high-five she was pretty sure the twins had spiked the punch.

Her gaze stopped at the sight of Neville and Ginny dancing, smiling fondly, before it wandered on to land on a certain french witch.

Fleur was in the middle of a pile of eager boys of all threes school, offering her drinks, while Roger Davies protested loudly. Hermione raised an eyebrow at the large amount of already emptied glasses on the table before Fleur.

The Veela just swallowed down another one and continued to grace her suitors with seductive smiles. Hermione shook her head. To all her faults the french girl apparently also liked drinking.

She felt bad for the abandoned group of girls behind them, staring at Fleur in helpless anger. And the arrogant girl didn't even seem to care!

"Do you know she is Veela?", a deep voice tore her from her thoughts.

She looked up to see Viktor looking in the same direction, two glasses in his hand. She took one from him.

"Thank you. Yes... yes, I knew. But she doesn't seem to affect you?"

Viktor sighed and sat down beside her, his forehead creased as he continued to watch the scene in front of them.

"Tzan you read the Veela come from Eastern Europe... from my home."

She looked at him expectantly. His face was grim.

"We Slavic wizards respect the Veela. They had bad first lives... they were betrayed by the ones they loved."

"_First_ lifes? What do you mean?"

Viktor looked uncomfortable. "We don't often speak of them at home. Nobody really knows how Veela are created. But most legends say they were witches deceived or lied to by the men they loved and died because of it ."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"I don't understand. You can't mean that every woman that is betrayed in your country turns -"

"Only the powerful ones. There are of course the children of the Veela as well, they are... softer. They are not so poweful and people think they make most of the Veela now... but they all protect the woods and creatures and we respect them. And we men are taught to resist their thrall."

Hermione scooted closer him in excitement, drinking in his every word.

"So this is why your people don't act so much like fools around her!"

"You are right. But Hermy-own-ninny, what I am try to say is: we respect them - but they are very dangerous, not only for men. If they have something against anybody, or want something from you - it is never good. Whatever you have done to her, you should find it out."

Hermione gave him an absent smile. Her thoughts whirling around the information he had given her she finally tuned away from Fleur and to him, briefly touching his hand.

"Thank you for telling me this, Viktor. And for your concern. But from what I know Fleur is only quarter Veela. I can't imagine she is as dangerous as the real ones."

Viktor opened his mouth in response when all of a sudden s shadow cast over them and his expression turned slightly panicked.

Hermione looked up to stare directly into Fleur Delacour's face.

_How did she get here so fast!_, she thought, her heart pounding.

To her surprise a slightly dopy smile broke the ice on Fleur's face.

"Bonjour mes amis!", she exclaimed joyfully, spreading he arms. Her once artisticly put up hair now fell in a louse mess around her face. Her cheeks were tinted red.

"I 'eard you talking about me?"

Hermione and Viktor exchanged a glance. Then she looked back up at Fleur.

"You're drunk."

Viktor paled. Fleur shook her head elegantly.

"I assure you I am not. In fact I could use anozer drink..."

Viktor took his half full glass and offered it to her.

"You can have this one, Fleur."

She shook her head again, not looking at him but at Hermione.

"Zank you Viktor. I meant from ze punch. Would you be so kind to get me a glass?"

For a short moment Hermione thought she felt a cold breeze bushing her, swirling on to Viktor. Suddenly his eyes got glazed.

"It will be my pleasure", he said, rose to his feet quickly and left without even sparing Hermione a glance.

She looked after him in amazement, before turning her gaze accusingly onto Fleur.

"You used your thrall on him!"

Fleur watched her for a moment and all drunkenness disappeared from her face.

Slowly she sat on Viktor's seat and swept a hand through her silvery hair.

"I see", she said slowly. "You 'ave done... what? Read a book on my kind, per'aps two? And now you zink you are an expert on me. I 'ave 'eard zat about you."

Hermione pressed her lips together.

"What do you want, Fleur? Don't you have enough people wanting to talk to you? Like the boys over there you stole from their partners!"

Fleur broke out into a terrifying smile, laughing her melodious laugh, only that it had an ugly tint to it now. Hermione's skin broke into goosebumps.

Still laughing Fleur skidded closer to her and to her horror she took her face in both hands and pulled her closer to her own one.

From this close Fleur's smell, that she still couldn't define, overpowered her. Her head dazed she noticed every line in the other girl's blue eyes and how flawless her skin truly was. She couldn't find one mark or spot on it. Fleur's breath smelled of alcohol.

Her hands wandered upwards, tangling in her pined up hair. Her touch tingled on Hermione's skin.

"Ma belle... ", Fleur said, dangerously soft. "I zought you said you preferred your 'air down..."

Hermione's body was vibrating from tension. A distant voice in her head screamed: _something is wrong! Go away!_

A hand touched Fleur's bare shoulder.

"Here you are!", Roger Davies said. "I couldn't find you anywhere!"

After that Hermione didn't remember seeing any movement but suddenly she saw Fleur pressing Roger Davies to the wall, an expression on her face that could only be described as bloodthirsty. Roger Davies looked at her in shock. Several people looked their direction.

Then for a brief second Fleur's face went blank. For a short moment she looked at Hermione who stared back. She doped the hand pressing Roger and moved it to his face instead, giving him a dazzling smile.

"'ere you are, my beau... I was starting to miss you."

And she moved up to kiss him on the mouth. Devoured him. Hermione starred frozen at the sight of them before abruptly standing up, fleeing.

She only came a few meters before she bumped into Viktor.

"I am sorry!", he said immediately. "I think she used her -"

"I know", Hermione quickly silenced him. She was sweating, her legs felt weak. "I know what you mean know. Let's... let's get some new drinks and... and talk to my friends, okay?"

The Bulgarian looked at her for a long moment before he nodded.

After having two of the spiked drinks Hermione found herself decidingly happier again and was determined to forget the strange french girl once and for all or at least for this evening. She wouldn't let her ruin his wonderful night. Most likely she had imagined things after what Viktor had told her. It was just strange that she didn't see Fleur anywhere in the great hall anymore for the rest of the evening...


	6. Showdown

I'm sorry for the wait but we had election in my country and it was quite a stressful affair this year, plus I'm starting to study now and I'm packed with work. As always thank you to my wonderful reviewers, especially dmpanda5! I wouldn't be able to continue this without the support!

* * *

"RON! Get your lousy, dumb self down here and let me bawl at you, you git! What on earth were you thinking?!"

Hesitatingly Ron cringed back the staircase Hermione had rushed of minutes ago. The fact that she had done so crying was the reason his little sister now stood at it's food, arms crossed and looking very, very angry.

He looked somewhere between contrite and angry.

"Ginny, he's the enemy! He's Harry's opponent! I just -"

"OH, so it's okay that you are bloody in love with him AND Fleur from afar but Hermione can't have a proper relationship with them? You're bloody pathetic!"

Ron's shoulders slumped down. Neville lay a hand on Ginny's shoulder in a calming gesture, whose eyes continued shooting daggers at her brother.

A new voice cleared their throat.

"What 'as 'e done to 'er?"

Ginny twitched. Out of nowhere Fleur Delacour had appeared beside her, looking at her brother with equal rage. But she seemed... weird. Her hair was a mess, her lipstick smeared and she smelled of alcohol. Nevertheless, she was Fleur Delacour and her brother was her brother; the result was foreseeable. _Great. That was the last thing I needed. _Ron was already at it, staring at the french beauty.

"He was being his normal stupid self. But I really don't know how this is any of your business."

But Fleur didn't even seem to hear her.

Taking a deep breath she made a step towards her Ron, practically foaming when a delicate hand touched her arm.

"Fleur. Tu ne veux pas faire ça. Imagine ce qu'elle pourrait penser. Pense à ta famille."

It was another beautiful Beauxbatons girl, Ginny knew to be Fleur's friend. What was her name? Emanuelle? How she wished she spoke french in that moment!

Another hand gripped Fleur's - it was the little adorable girl Ginny often had spotted with the champion. She always had wondered how she wasn't scared to death by the elder. Now she looked up at her with pleading eyes, whispering in frantic french to her.

To Ginny's astonishment the Beauxbatons champion seemed to calm down somewhat at that.

In a strangely enchanting manner she raised her hand at Ron.

"I advise you to be very careful, Monsieur Weasley" she said in a sharp, suddenly awfully clear voice. "I will not tolerate zis be'avior forever."

That was it!

Ginny stepped forward. "Listen Miss popular: he is a git and he's terrible but he's my brother. It's my job to criticize him. You have no right at all to talk to him like that and I think you know bloody what effect you have on boys, so stop acting like you're a victim or something!"

Fleur opened her mouth, new rage flaring in her eyes, but Emmanuelle stepped in the middle of them.

"Excusez-nous!", she said loudly. "She is drunk. She... she doesn't make much sense now, n'est-ce pas? I will take 'er 'ome now. 'ave a good night."

With that she gripped Fleur at her shoulders and dragged her towards the entrance. Soon they had vanished in the mass of students and Ginny found herself alone with the little girl.

Ron apparently had been overwhelmed and used the opportunity to make a bolt for it.

Ginny's confusion was complete when the girl tentatively took her hand.

"Uhm... are you a ami... a frind of 'ermione?", she asked her in broken English.

"Uh... yeah?", Ginny answered, perplexed.

"Can you ask 'er, s'il vous plaît... to be more nice to ma sister? Ma sister is...is sick right now. She is not 'erself."

Ginny stared at her. "Your sister? You are Fleur's sister?"

The girl nodded.

"I don't understand. Hermione is not nice to her? Pardon me, but it seems you sister is not nice to _anyone! _I mean, sorry, but-"

The little girl just gripped her hand tighter.

"Please", she muttered one more time. Than she ran off in the direction the other two Beauxbatons had disappeared.

* * *

Hermione glanced a her boys over their pile of underwater creature books... they glanced back at her and with a sigh she tuned back to Ginny who was pacing in front of her.

"Right. I admit that I might have snapped a few times at Fleur. So what?! She's insufferable, as I recall you calling her as well! Besides she is the one who provokes everything..."

"So you _have _been meeting up?"

"We haven't been meeting up. She just constantly seems to cross my way. I don't know. Ginny, the second task is tomorrow and we still have a lot of work to do. Can't this wait until another time ?"

Ginny sopped to stare down at her.

"You hear the talk, right? That she's Veela and all?"

"Yeah of course. Why?"

"You think it has to do anything with it?"

Hermione cringed inwardly. Viktor's word echoed in her mind and her own suspicion and pictures of Fleur kissing Roger came floating to her consciousness before she pushed them back quickly.

"I don't know. Maybe. Viktor mentioned something... why are you so interested in it anyway? Until today you never even mentioned Fleur if it wasn't to brag about her."

Ginny hesitated. "Her sister talked to me", she whispered.

"Gabrielle?!"

"You know her?"

"Yes, no.. what did she say?"

"She asked me to ask you to be nicer to Fleur."

They stared at each other for a moment before Hermione let out an awkward laugh.

"I don't know how she comes to the inclusion I would be anything her sister isn't to me."

"Hermione, you should have seen how she looked. She pleaded with me. And Fleur, how she looked at Ron and how she... it was almost as if she was..."

Hermione waited impatiently, fearing the answer.

"As if she was what?"

Ginny fringed her hands nervously.

"I dunno... as if she was jealous."

Hermione snorted. "Jealous? C'mon! Jealous? Of my relationship to Ron? We're talking _Ron _here, Ginny!"

Ginny sat down beside her and touched her arm. Her face was worried.

"I meant of him."

Before Hermione had any chance of replying to that, Fred and George came in.

Ron, who had be drifting in and out of wakefulness, sat up straight. "What are you two doing here?" he asked. The twins exchanged knowing looks.

"Looking for you," George said. "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione."

"Why?" Hermione asked, baffled. Her brain bombarded her with dozens of possibilities, effectively banning every thought on Fleur.

"Dunno", Fred said, shrugging. "She was looking a bit grim, though."

"We're supposed to take you to her office," George added. Hermione shot Harry a guilty look; they weren't even close to a solution and she had wasted time by talking to Ginny about that annoying french girl. I was really time to stop that once and for all.

Hesitatingly she gathered her things.

"We'll meet you back in the Common Room", she said to Harry, who now looked downward miserable. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"

"Right", he murmured. Ron, looking as confused as she probably did, followed her to the portrait. Hermione looked back at a slumped Harry and at Ginny, who glanced at her with a strange concern she had never seen before. And she didn't like iat all what the redhead had implied.

* * *

Fleur screamed agonizingly, the sound echoing at the walls of the carriage hauntingly.

"Madame Maxime!", shouted Emmanuelle, desperately trying to get the girl in her arms to lie down.

"We need help! She is burning up!"

Then she was slapped away again. Beneath her, her friend Fleur was writhing and throwing around in her bed. Her eyes were wide open, the pupils widened and she was clawing at her pillow.

Between sounds of pain she said only one word again and again: Hermione.

"What is happening to her?", Emanuelle asked Gabrielle who was huddled beside her sister, stroking her damp hair, tears in her eyes.

"It is the Veela nature. It is awakening. Maman has warned her it would happen..." She sobbed.

The door was opened and for a short moment Emmanuelle got a glimpse of her fellow students who waited worryingly outside, before Madame Maxime shut it and hurried over to them.

"My sweet child", she said gently, putting her pranks of hands on Fleur's arms, stilling her. "Calm down.."

Emmanuelle stood in distance and watched with worried eyes.

"Madame, she cannot compete like this tomorrow. It's unreasonable."

"Of course I will compete!", snapped Fleur suddenly just to grimace in pain. "There is nothing wrong with me! Just a fever..."

Emmanuelle looked at her inhuman eyes and sharpened fingernails, the glow of her skin.

"Cheri, I should contact your mother"; Madame Maxime said with caution.

"No! Don't you dare! I have it...I have it under control..."

Suddenly an inhuman growl rose from her throat. Emmanuelle's blood turned to ice.

Fleur ripped free form from Madame Maxime's grip and raised her now fully grown claws at her, her face unrecognizable.

The director raised her hand and a blast of red energy enveloped Feur. For a short moment she seemed to levitate in the air than she slumped back to the bed, her body unmoving and her eyes glazed.

Gabrielle threw herself over her and cried.

Madame looked at her with a deep sadness. "I will contact her mother. But I'm afraid there is nothing more we can do. She has to compete tomorrow. She is in a magic contract."

Emmanuelle shook her head. With a new, unknown fear she sat down beside her beautiful friend and cupped her cheek.

Fleur's eyes flickered to her.

"Do you see her?", she asked breathlessly.

"Who, Fleur?"

"Hermione. She is so beautiful... so dangerous... I can... I can almost see..."

Emmanuelle closed her eyes.

"Oh Fleur. You never denied yourself anything. Don't deny her now! I can't loose you over this!"

* * *

Next chapter will be the second task... and it will turn a little M-ish, so be warned ;) hope you enjoyed!


	7. Going under

Voilà! I give you chapter seven :)This is the first part since it turned out so long I had to brake it in two, so sorry for the lack of m-ness, it's coming right up ;)

I'd also like to use this opportunity to congratulate the Fleur/Hermione community on this site for the current boom of stories. We are a creative bunch! Like always I am most thankful for reviews, especially for those that consist of more than just 'Update!' ;) keep them coming!

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A harsh wind was blowing to the grounds from the lake and Fleur was shivering, not only from the cold. The past two days she had barely been eating and hardly slept more than five hours. She embraced herself but her floozy jacket did little to fight the cold.

Inadvertently she had to think of the day when Hermione and she had sat on the lonely booth in the library, sharing their thoughts and their warmth. She remembered how beautiful the sunlight had danced on the other girl's face... it was a memory she secretly treasured deeply.

Not able to help herself she looked towards the audience packed stands, trying to spot her face... but she didn't make her out. Instead she had to face Roger Davis' antic, who paddled widely with his arms. She remembered the feeling of his loveless lips pressing onto hers, his possessing grip and absence of any compassion as she had ripped away from him and cried, feeling lost and dirty for the remainder of the evening, drinking and drinking more in the hopes it would all just go away.

She hadn't graced him with any form of acknowledgment since.

"Tout va bien?", Gabrielle asked behind her. She turned around and tried to smile for her little sister. It killed her to trouble her so but she seemed past control over her own body. Things she had laughed at, dismissed over the years were now catching up with her - worse than she had ever feared. She was used to wearing her had now all the time, to hide her ever changing eyes from people's cruel looks.

Her nights kept her awake with pain and longing and more and more she found herself screaming at herself, to stop this madness. Mad... she had asked Emmanuelle if she turned mad; her loyal friend had just shaken her head, biting her lip and telling her no.

Fleur didn't believe her.

She felt a pair of eyes on her bare legs and glared at Cedric.

"Would you mind?", she asked him coldly. He ducked his head and mumbled an apology. She didn't blame him too much. Usually he was very much in control around her. This was especially admirable since she couldn't control her thrall anymore since Hermione had stepped into her life.

She bend down and placed a loving kiss on Gabrielle's forehead.

"Je serai, chérie, je serai..."

She massaged her sleeves, Cedric constantly looked to the stances, apparently looking for someone and Viktor looked even more miserable than usual. She also noticed how he tried to keep his distance from her; poor Bulgarian. His people had always feared her mother's people.

_Your own people now, it seems_, she thought bitterly.

"Where is you precious number second champion, Dumbledore?", sneered Karkaroff behind her. "Did he make a run for it? Couldn't he take the cold, hah?"

"He will come, Igor", replied the old man calmly. "Have patience."

Fleur looked at him from the corner of her eye. She didn't trust him one bit, however much she respected him. In France there was quite more talk about him that it seemed to be the case in his home country. She wondered if Hermione knew... she seemed to be so very educated.

Right then a croaking voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm . .. here ..." a running Harry panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and splattering her robes. A few of her peers gasped. She shed them wordlessly.

"Where have you been?" Barty Crouches replacement, a man with the same hair as the insufferable Ronald Weasley had. "The task's about to start!"

"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see Harry.

"Let him catch his breath!"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him. ... It was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up. Gabrielle squeezed her arm, but then was pulled away from something. The nervousness around her was palpable. But she herself remained oddly calm; hardly no feeling really reached her heart these days if Hermione wasn't there to trigger the living combustion she had become.

Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank.

"Sonorus!" his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them... a treasure of sorts." He took a moment to grin mischievously, before raising his whistle. "On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; Fleur raised her wand and performed a silent bubblehead charm;

then she jumped into the lake.

At first the cold water that immersed her took her breath away. She didn't recall to ever have been in such cold waters. Then her eyes adjusted to the environment and once again she saw the muddy, greenish lake from inside. She had had her head in before, since she figured the egg out, but didn't have the time or power to practice in it as she knew Krum had been doing.

Her sight was strangely clear... she assumed it was her new found Veela power.

As if on automatics she felt herself starting to swim, oddly dismissive of her surroundings.

Her legs were moving with precise accuracy; from time to time she spotted the merpeople following her and thought to hear them murmuring.

Once again she heard their song, following her every movement.

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this;_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And recover what we took,_

_But past an hour - the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._

The hours she had been able tot think clearly she had pondered what it could be the merpeople

had taken from her. She had decided it didn't matter.

She thew a quick look over her shoulder. No one could be seen. She knew her powers had bought her a huge head start. The greenish creatures surrounding her pointed a her and with a bitter grin she waved at them; even without understanding their language she knew they wondered if she was human. At least one thing they had in common.

She sped on, looking out for some sort of aim, anything that could point her to the treasure they had taken from her... and soon the dwellings became more numerous and a very strange sight met her eyes.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of strange forms of houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. And tightly to the tail of the stone merperson were bound...

she stopped in shock. Her breath caught in her throat.

There she was, floating gently in the water, her brown hair clouding around her and her face more relaxed and beautiful than she had ever seen it. A beautiful pale spot in all this darkness.

A burning heat emerged in her heart and in her head, clouding her thoughts. They had taken her! That they had DARED! Her mind was racing. A distant part was terrified at what this meant for her. These oblivious, preposterous fools of judges... how dared they expose her like that! The other, more dominant part just wanted to get Hermione to safety, not caring about anyone else. After a short battle she swam upwards and soon found herself with the hostages.

Her mind registered the other three absently; there was Cho Chang, Cedric's girlfriend and, for reasons incomprehensible to her, Ronald Weasley. She recognized Viktor's best friend.

All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

But they didn't matter. She reached out and grasped Hermione's face in her hands. Her skin was ice cold and her veins pulsated. Quickly she spun around and grabbed one of the mermen by his am.

She gestured to his spear. He laughed and shook his head. "We do not help!", he said.

Fleur felt her body vibrating. Her heart fluttered and a sharp pain went through her...

she stretched out her hands and unsheathed her claws. For a fleeting moment she felt as if there was a split in her perception - and she looked at the fangs with a deep sadness. But then it passed and the Veela took over again.

The merman's yellow eyes went wide.

"What... what spell is this?", he stammered. Nervously he raised his spear at her.

"She's a creature!", shrilled a new mermaid. She was taller and broader than the man and guessing from the strange jewelry around her neck she seemed to have some sort of rank. She curled her way around Fleur, slowly closing her in like a snake.

Fleur backed of slightly. "I... I am not!", she shouted but the sound came right back to her. The mermaid however must have read her lips. A gurgling sound emerged from her mouth and Fleur realized it was laughing. "I know your kind, Veela child. I know your pain. I can _smell_ it...", she put her webbed hands in Fleur's face, "I can _see_ it in your eyes... the desire that awoke you."

Her yellow eyes skidded to Hermione. "That one is you mate."

Fleur grit her teeth. "No, she is _not!_" With a burst of energy she jabbed at the mermaid's hands, jerking her meters away. She heard her shrieking but she had already swam back to Hermione. With one slash the thick ropes that held her were cut though and she gathered her unconscious body in her arms.

Her head fell to her breast and a soft spur of bubbles emerged from her mouth. For a brief moment Fleur smiled gently at her before it disappeared from her face and she sped up, towards the surface, Hermione in a firm grip and her feed kicking them upwards. She heard the mermaids's screams following them for a long time, but none was coming after her.

The more distance she put between them however the more her rage ebbed down and she felt how the deep weakness and pain came claiming her back.

Her sight blurred, Hermione felt heavy in her arms. Suddenly she was aware of their closeness and the coldness of her skin and the shrill voice of the mermaid echoed back in her. With heavy eyelids she pressed her forehead to Hermione's, just resting for a moment, the first in ages it seemed to her. What a fragile little girl she seemed right now, floating heavy in her robes. Just a girl, really. Fifteen years old... Fleur felt the gentle swing of her brow on her eyes, her lips touching her cheek, the soft breath stroking her. The torture of the past days passed by her eyes...

how she had watched Hermione relentlessly, to learn, to see who she was... how she listened up, subtly asked people about her, gathering every information that she could... her intelligence, the kindness in her eyes... the look of peace when she entered the library, her concentration when she read a book or listened to somebody. Her arrogance and insecurity, her closeness to her friends and her loneliness. How she herself had abhorred her, for awakening all this in her, for taking her choice. For her choices, for the Weasley boy, oh the unbearable jealously when he could touch her and she had to stay afar. For the overwhelming power she seemed to possess at her age that made he wonder if she was indeed under _her _spell and not in battle with her own neglected nature.

She felt tears forming in her eyes. What could she do? What should she do...

The first sank it's teeth into her leg. Her scream was silenced by the bubble on her mouth.

Her sight sprang back into function ... she was surrounded by a swarm of grindylows, quickly enclosing her like a hive of angry wasps.

In panic she started to thrash around, hitting a few but they were all too soon replaced with others. They were biting, clawing and scratching her and worse, Hermione. She tried to reach for her wand, but five of them held her arm in place. She felt pain everywhere but then she saw the blood pouring from Hermione's face...

it was like a explosion went out from her very inside.

Her bubble burst at the scream she released and the silent magic enclosed the grindylows in a red glow. Then they sank below, unmoving.

Breathing heavily she sucked water in. Her skin stung, her head hurt but she felt Hermione in her arms and could see the light dancing just above her...

and with a last, desperate kick of her legs she broke through the surface of the lake.

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Part 2 coming up...


	8. Surrender all that you had treasured

Chapter eight. Wow, it turned out long! Just a warning, this one isn't for the fairy tale lovers. I hope it was worth the wait, let me know what you think and review :)

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Hermione awakened to a harsh February wind and cold water splashing over her wet face. She grasped in the air greedily, so much that she had to cough.

Her blurry thoughts mingled together until she had a startlingly realization. The last memory she had was in Professor McGonagall's office where she had been explained to be the treasure of one of the champions. Naturally she he had assumed she would be Harry's. Then she remembered Ron was with her and, with a swallow, she concluded she had to be Victor's. And then there had only been Professor McGonagall's wand, a spur of light and darkness.

She was in her robes and she was soaking wet... still struggling with her perception she looked around disorientated. She was in the lake! Now she remembered!

They were told they would be bound to the bottom a the lake under a spell that would keep them safe. She was distantly aware of the trilingual roars from big iron stands in front of her and pondered about the magic used on her when she suddenly came aware of a ghost pale arm wrapped around her.

In confusion she followed it with her eyes up until a slender shoulder and finally a face.

Her heart jumped.

Gasping and without really knowing what she was doing she rose a hand to the beautiful, exhausted face and smoothed some wet silver hair out of it.

"_You?_"

Fleur looked at her with deep resignation in her eyes. Scratches disgraced her illuminated skin and her breath was raspy.

Hermione's senses slowly came to their normal strength. The crowd's cheers now sounded painfully loud in her ears and she already heard cries of surprise and disbelief.

"Come", Fleur said in a voice so weak Hermione barely could hear it, "We should get out of zis lake."

Hermione just stared at her. She was freezing cold, all soaked and she was pretty sure there just landed a beetle somewhere in her hair and yet she couldn't grasp the logical explanation of her situation.

She let herself be pulled by Fleur who brought them to the bank towards the presently not so cheery crowd. She watched open mouthy as Fleur was pulled up to the bank by her worried Beauxbaton friends. The french girl struggled and protested wildly in french but eventually she lost her grip of Hermione.

"But I can't be your treasure!", Hermione exclaimed. "You don't even like me! You don't even -"

She gasped when Fleur, broken free again, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her out of the water in one strong move.

She landed hard on a pile of blankets, Fleur lowering above her, arms and knees to her sides.

Hermione fell silent when she looked into her savior's eyes, shadowed by wet bangs of her hair and mud.

They seemed to hold all the pain in the world. Cuts were sprawled all over the girl's body and she looked unhealthy and sweaty, as if in a fever. A blood drop fell from one of her cuts to Hermione's cheek.

The moment was broken by Madame Pomfrey and Madame Maxime who pulled Fleur away and wrapped her tightly in blankets. Hermione's view was momentarily shielded from her as she herself was enveloped into sheets and blankets by helping hands. Ginny appeared by her side, her face a grotesque mix of relieve and worry as she rubbed Hermione's shoulders.

"Well", she said awkwardly. "That sure came as a surprise."

Hermione didn't listen to her. Her sight path was clear again and she saw Fleur lying on the wooden bottom of the stands just in front of her, her breast rising rapidly as Madam Pomfrey fuzzed over her. Her sister Gabrielle had appeared as well and for some reason she and Madame Maxime were bandaging Fleur's hands. She now wore a bath robe and Hermione could see her bare legs shaking uncontrollably.

The attention on the french champion was interrupted when Cedric and Cho broke through the lake's surface and all of Hogwarts erupted into applause, rising to their feed.

Hermione made an attempt to crawl over to Fleur but was stopped by her friend Emmanuelle.

"No", she said firmly and with a animosity in her voice that made Hermione cringe.

She stared at the Beauxbaton girl in disbelief.

"Look I don't understand it one bit myself, but fact is Fleur just saved me from a freezing lake and she seemed to be sick. You can't deny me to at least check on her!"

Emmanuelle shook her head. "You are bad for 'er. Please, if you want to 'elp 'er, stay away."

With that she briskly turned her her back and returned to the french people who all looked at Hermione with a range of emotions that went from curiosity to downward despite.

Hermione opened her mouth furiously - who did they think they were?

But then a gentle hand lowered itself on her shoulder and she looked up into Dumbledore's sympathetic face.

"Miss Granger, as much as I understand your concern and confusion I think it best you follow this girl's advice for the moment", he said. "I regret deeply -"

"Dumblidore!", shouted a raging Madame Maxime who now build up in front of him in all her might. She made him look rather tiny. Then she started to shout at him in french so rapid, Hermione couldn't even understand one word. She was pulled back by Ginny and Madame Pomfrey. Apparently she was minorly injured and she hadn't even noticed.

Viktor and his friend soon reemerged too form the lake, just as the time was over. Everyone started to whisper and wonder about Harry, and Hermione too worried deeply for her friend. Only once in a while she tried to get a glimpse of Fleur but the girl was shielded completely from her now by whispering Beauxbatons.

Finally Harry and Ron returned from the lake and the Hogwarts students broke into another wild applause and Hermione teared her eyes away from the french human circle.

She applauded loudly, proud and happy to see both of her boys. She smiled widely. Madam Pomfrey seized Harry and pulled him over to her and the others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket that he looked as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down his throat.

Steam gushed out of his ears.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well -" said Harry. "Yeah, that's right." He glared at Karkaroff who didn't look too happy about the safe return from all champions. Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep

in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when

they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. But Hermione noted with a frown that the mermaid gestured wildly at Fleur. Finally Dumbledore straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle.

It turned out Harry had tried to save Viktor's friend to, before the Bulgarian had appeared too late in his shark form, that had decreased his sight. Afterward Harry had gotten himself into a swarm of grindylows Fleur had stunned prior to him and therefore returned last.

Ron and Dean ranted at him for his stupidly but Hermione just hugged her brave friend and smiled at him.

"Damn Harry, you could have been first!", Dean said repeatedly. "Though no one could have outmatched that Fleur girl! She was here so fast even Dumbledore looked surprised! I didn't even know you were close, Hermione. Thought I'd saw you two fighting in the library once... and doesn't she have her own _sister _with her?!"

He and everyone around her including Harry, Ron, Madam Pomfrey and a bunch of other Hogwarts students looked a her with expectation.

Hermione swallowed but she was saved just then by Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice, booming out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marksout of fifty for each of the champions, as follows..." he looked very nervous.

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm and several other yet, ah, unidentified charms and retrieved her hostage first, uhm... unfortunatley attacked the merchieftainess Murcus in a moment of, uhm, unsoundness of mind."

Loud gasps came from the audience and everyone tried to look at Fleur, who however still was hidden beneath her caretakers.

"We award her thirty points."

Hesitant applause from the stands, loud protests from the Beauxbatons and Madame Maxime.

Hermione frowned deeply. She heard whispers arising.

"You knew Delacour and Granger were friends?"

"... took her over own sister, the heartless wrench..."

"Seems Skeeter is right and Hermione really uses love potions..."

Hermione snorted at this; she had long since tried to ignore the articles that woman wrote; Viktor had tried to kiss her after the Yule Ball and she, through fully confused with the evening and her feelings had told him she wasn't ready for anything like that. He had been dissapointed but respected her wishes and asked her to start of as friends; she had agreed. However she never would have assumed people would presume she could be interested in Fleur Delacour - a girl - suddenly her brain froze at this possibility. People were already talking and when the people did, Rita Skeeter sure would too. And the means behind this... she stared hard at the spot were Fleur Delacour seemed to be hidden. Thoughts tumbled wildly in her head.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was second to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour."

Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Hermione watched Harry who watched Cho give Cedric a glowing look. She patted his shoulder.

Loud applause.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and

was third to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect", Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well

outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was

second to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

Ron and Hermione both gave Harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks.

"Most of the judges", and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows

moral fiber and merits full marks. However...Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

Hermione and Ron cheered in great surprise along with their fellow Gryffindors - Harry was now tied for first place with Cedric.

"There you go. Harry!" Ron shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick after all - you

were showing moral fiber!" Harry gave an exhausted but happy grin.

When the applause went down a little Ludo Bagman spoke again.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June. The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

It was over. Madam Pomfrey began to demand herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes... that was when the Beauxbatons started to clear.

Hermione stood to halt by them, watching how Fleur was levitated onto a barrow.

The french witch looked truly sick.

For a moment her concern let Hermione forget all the questions and the confusion and she approached the barrow.

Slowly, under the watchful gaze of Gabrielle as she noticed, she lowered a hand to Fleur's forehead. Wincing she pulled away.

"She is burning up!", she cried.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Yes Miss Granger, I know. That is why we must bring her to the hospital -"

"Non."

All eyes turned to Fleur who had opened her eyes.

Maybe Hermione's mind was simply overwhelmed but they seemed to be of a different color and glaring into them chilled her.

Fleur looked at her and suddenly grasped her hand weakly. Hermione's skin burned at her touch.

"Nous devons parler, toi et moi", she whispered hoarsely. Her eyes flickered to their surroundings briefly. "Seul. Alone."

The Beauxbatons and the Gryffindors stared at them but Hermione couldn't move her eyes from the french.

Madam Pomfrey started to protest. "Miss Delacour, you shouldn't speak. I don't know what you said but you must -"

"Oui. Nous devons parler" Hermione breathed out, shaking. Everyone else sucked their breath in.

"You speak french?!", asked Ron in complete puzzlement.

Hermione ignored him; Fleur started to rise from her barrow but Madam Pomfrey protested again loudly until Dumbledore grasped her shoulders.

"Poffy, I know Miss Delacour needs to be treated but I'm afraid this a conversation that cannot be postponed. I'm sure Miss Granger will deliver her shortly." He looked at her over his glasses rims and she nodded. She had no idea why Dumbledore acted this way. Madame Maxime looked grim. Hermione started to fear.

Madam Pomfrey literally steamed of anger. Under loud curses she gathered everyone else and pushed them into the direction of the castle.

Harry, Ron and Ginny threw her long glances over their shoulders, Madame Maxime and Gabrielle whispered something into Fleur's ear and Gabrielle kissed her sister's cheek goodbye.

And finally the champion and her treasure were alone.

Fleur stood up and looked at her intently. Her face was ghostly pale but there was a burning determination in her eyes.

Swiftly she turned around in he direction of the forests surrounding the lake.

"Come", she said quietly. "Walk wi'z me."

Hermione followed her wordlessly. They walked very slowly but Fleur kept stumbling over roots in the ground. Hermione helped her up several times but the french girl just shoved her away. Trees became taller and shadowier around them, the air even cooler.

Hermione bit her lip. She heard how Fleur's breath went raspier the more they entered the depths of the forests. Maybe she should just refuse Fleur's demand and force her back to the castle? It wouldn't be too difficult in her current state and she obviously needed to be treated, whatever it was she suffered from. And yet she felt this was something important, something that would change things. She shivered and not only from the fact that she was still very wet in the middle of a cold February forest.

Suddenly Fleur moaned and came to a halt.

"Fleur?", Hermione asked, confused. "What - FLEUR!"

The french girl sank down to the ground, rubbed of her strength. Hermione caught her just before she hit the ground. Carefully she lowered her down so her head was in her lap.

Fleur's breath went so rapid now, she could feel her pulse. Fleur looked up to her. A strange smile went over her sweat glistening face as she raised her fingertips to touch Hermione's cheek.

"You always care for people, do you not?", she whispered.

"No matter how you feel about 'zem... or what 'zey did to you."

She coughed. Hermione suddenly regretted deeply she had let herself into this.

"Fleur, you need to stop talking", she pleaded. "You're not well. I should get you to Madam Pomfrey -"

"Sshh. She couldn't 'help me. No one can... but you." She grasped her hand.

"Me?"

Fleur closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them Hermione was sure they had changed. They hardly looked human anymore.

"What 'as Viktor told you about... the Veela?", she asked in a whisper.

Hermione swallowed.

"That... that they were witches who were betrayed by the ones they loved... and died from it."

Fleur nodded.

"'e does not know every'zing... nor do I. I 'ave neglected my nature my w'ole life.. My mozer is half a Veela. My gandmere was full blooded. She was drowned by my grandpere when 'e discovered she was a creature. 'e believed that she 'ad bewitched 'im..."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she covered her mouth -

"When in truz it was 'im zat 'ad bewitched 'er." Fleur's grasp tightened and rage made her face flare up.

"You see, 'ermione, ze Veela and zeir children are cursed. Only ze full blooded Veela know why but they can... fall truly _in love _" - she spat the word - "but once. We part Veelas can fall in love with anyone... but should we meet what the Veela call mate... we 'ave no choice. We are drawn to zem like mot'zs are to flames..."

Suddenly she pulled Hermione's hand to her nose. She inhaled deeply and Hermione felt fear taking over her heart. This was wrong. This was dangerous. But she was too shocked to move. And something told her that even if she could, Fleur wouldn't let her go...

"Ah", sighed Fleur and opened her eyes. "When we meet our mates we know it immediately. We are bewitched by everyzing... their smell, their voice... as you can imagine mortal men do not question zis many times... it 'appened often zat Veela and their males met and ze Veela never let 'er mate know what she was. The men zought zey were in love, naturally... zat zey choose to be wiz a woman zey loved. Veela are very beautiful after all. And even many of zose who knew... didn't care. Why should zey question? My own fazer... 'e did only so when 'e discovered accidentally who my mozer was... and 'e warned me..."

At once she grabbed Hermione's face tightly - Hermione gasped in pain as long fingernails digged into her cheeks and she tried to move; but the Veela's grip was iron hard.

"Let me go!", she shouted, tears forming in her eyes. She desperatly thought of her wand.. but it was in her wet robe's pocket's just beneath Fleur's head.

Fleur shook her head, as if in a trance. Her eyes seemed black now.

"I never believed 'im, you know? I told 'im zat I was 'uman and zat I would choose on my own right who I wanted to be wiz... and zen I saw you."

She now grasped Hermione's head with both of her hands and forced her down so that their faces were only millimeters apart.

"I cannot sleep", breathed Fleur, "I dream of your face and your voice and when I'm near you everything inside me screams to take you."

Suddenly she sobbed. Hermione looked at her in horror. Tears were pouring from the beautiful girl's angry eyes.

"You awoke zat creature in me!", she sobbed. "You took my choice away! Before you I could kiss and sleep withe everyone I wanted to... now when I kiss somebody else I feel as if my own soul is tearing me apart. I never looked for zis! I I wizstanded for _months... _I tried to 'ate you and to keep away... but I couldn't. You wouldn't _let _me."

Hermione's heart pumped in her chest. She knew she had to do something _now, _bu she couldn't think clearly.

"Fleur, I - I had no idea of his. You must know this. I never meant to be that.. whatever it is that you speak of!" She felt a tear falling from her face to the ones on Fleur's.

"Please-"

"No", Fleur whispered. "You 'ave no idea... what pain I feel. When I'm apart from you..."

She stroked Hermione's face with her thumbs. "And when I'm with you..."

Fleur grabbed her wrists, Hermione shouted, but the Veela had already spun them around.

Hermione's back was pressed into the moss, Fleur pressing down on her. She was breathing even heavier now. Hermione tried to struggle against her grip but to no avail. Fleur looked at her with wide eyes and then slowly lowered her face to her breasts.

"My longing for you absorbs me" she whispered, her lips trailing up the white wet skin of her cleavage. "My mozer always longed for ze day I would meet my mate.. ah, when she learns it is a girl!" She gave a strange sound that sounded like a mixture of a cry and laughter.

"She won't accept what I never accepted. But I won't torture myself any longer..."

And she pressed her lips to Hermione's.

Her heart stood still. A wave of burning heat emerged in her body and Fleur gave a soft sigh. Her lips remained on hers but she didn't continue kissing her.

Hermione released a sharp breath. She opened her eyes...

Fleur's orbes were dark and full of hunger, hovering above hers.

She grasped Hermione's face again and kissed her with a searing passion that send them both even lower to the ground. Her wet silvery hair fell covered their faces. Hermione struggled, she tried to move her face, slapped at the the Veela's back; but nothing could stop Fleur.

She used Hermione's protests to shove her tongue into her mouth - Hermione felt how it touched her own and how Fleur's hands teared her soaked robes open, roaming over her exposed wet skin.

And against all the fear and all the horror - the touch awakened feelings in her she never had before. It felt warm, wanting, needing...it aroused her.

She gasped.

Her struggle became weaker. Fleur moaned as she kissed her and her bewitching smell now filled Hermione, clouding her senses.

She started to kiss back. For the first time in her life she was kissed and when she started to respond she felt how Fleur smiled.

Hermione didn't know what to think; she wasn'T thinking anymore. Conflicting emotions battled in her heart and Fleur's fiery touch scarred her... and yet she needed more.

Fleur now tugged at her robes, opening them completely and for a moment she felt her bare torso exposed to the cold forest air. But then Fleur's burning hot body pressed down to hers and she felt the other girl's breasts touching her own... a moan emerged unwillingly from her lips. She hadn't known it could feel so good to touch one another. She was dazzled. A huge part of her screamed to stop this, wanted to run away but she still couldn't move. Mud thew around them from their hasty movements. She gasped for breath when Fleur's lips left her own to cover her breasts.

_"Si tu savais combien je désirais cela", _whispered Fleur into her skin and a shudder went though Hermione. No one had ever said things like that to her. _She_ had never said things like that before...

She struggled again. Her hold wasn't eased.

More and more heat emerged from the very center of her body and then suddenly she felt Fleur's hand at the rim of her skirt...

Her eyes snapped open.

"Stop!"

Fleur didn't seem to hear her. Her mouth trailed a hungry path over her skin, she whispered in seductive french, devouring her body...with all her power Hermione shoved Fleur away from her; the french witch rolled down the roots of a mighty tree. Hermione jumped to her feet, pulling her wand from he socked teared open robes. With shaking fingers she pointed it at the Veela.

"What are you _doing?!_"; she shouted at her, panic and horror in her voice, "What are you _thinking?!"_

Fleur rose slowly from the ground. Her eyes had turned back to blue. She was on her knees, her breasts and stomach barred to her and on her face, mud smeared, was the expression of deep horror and self disgust... and sadness.

After everything, she still looked beautiful.

The sight was heart breaking.

Hermione's chest was heaving up and down rapidly. She took the teared parts from her robes and put them together over her chest. She felt young, vulnerable and very, very scared.

Fleur weakly extended her hand to her.

"'ermione -"

"Don't move!"

Fleur sank back into the soil.

Hermione breathed heavily, still pointing her wand at Fleur.

She didn't know what to feel. She didn't know what to do. It scared her what she had wanted to do.

"I didn't choose this either!", she cried, her hand shaking. "It's not my fault!"

Fleur stared at her. She nodded slowly. Silent fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

Hermione took a step back. Then another. She still pointed her wand at her.

Then she turned away and ran, ran away as fast as she could.


	9. To judge and turn away

I was amazed by your reviews, guys! I never would have thought the last chapter of all would get so many positive reviews. I hope this means I succeeded in approaching this topic in a respectful way.

Thank you so much, I'm so happy people can enjoy a story I didn't write in my native tongue.

So there is so much to clear up and so little time to write. And people say students have lots of free time, hah! Anyway this is only the beginning... it will confuse you a little, but no worries, there is more to come. As always I hope you enjoy it and review on what you think! Love, Aemeth

* * *

The world was a blur of memories... Fleur still felt Hermione underneath her, her taste and voice filling her. Then other sounds reached her ears, screams she seemed to hear for the first time... not having heard them, when she should have... _listened_. Hermione's screams. Pleading her to stop.. _stop..._

She felt sweat breaking out in her and she tossed to her side. Stop... her own conscience pleading with herself to... stop! Her desire to... _stop, stop_, STOP!

"Fleur, stop!"

Fleur sat up bolt right and grabbed for the disturbance...

she looked into her sister's eyes, blue, so similar to her own. Her own, sweet blood. The same curse in much more innocence.

Everything came back to her in one second. She breathed in shakily.

"What... what have I done?"

Gabrielle looked at her with deep worry in her eyes.

"I... I don't know Fleur", she whispered softly. Quickly her little arms wrapped themselves around her. "Are you okay? Does it still hurt?"

Fleur blinked and looked down at her sister for a while, confused.

"No. No, I'm not hurt..." She closed her own arms around her sister and Gabrielle relaxed visibly.

She tried to smile but ended up gritting her teeth.

"But I hurt her... " A single tear ran down her cheek. "I hurt Hermione..."

"That is _her_ name then."

Fleur's blood turned to ice. Slowly, very slowly she raised her head over Gabrielle's shoulder.

Her whole body hurt but in that moment she felt that... she was stronger. Her skin felt cool and normal, the fever was gone and she _knew. _She knew why. The beast had tasted what it wanted.

Finally her eyes were on level with a pair of the same color, though colder and harder and with soft winkles around them.

She scanned the rest of the sculptural face, the thin lips and the illuminant skin, the sharp cheekbones and her very own hair.

"Maman", she croaked.

* * *

Ginny was quiet, very quiet. The tip of her nose was white and her jaw was tightened.

"I was right." She shook her head. Hermione didn't move.

"I knew how that... _thing _was looking at you. I bloody saw it in her eyes... can't believe Maxime let her ran off with you... if she _knew..._"

"So", she said carefully, "Please tell me again... why I shouldn't rip this bitches heart out and then report her leftovers to Dumbledore?"

Hermione lay cuddled up to her, face more white and small than Ginny had ever seen it. She still could see the tear streaks and it took all she got to hold back her anger at what Hermione had just confessed to her. They were in a secluded corner of the Gryffindor common room and it was long past midnight. Hermione had stumbled into the room, muddy and in teared robes as everybody had long since disappeared and only Harry and Ginny had waited up for her. As soon as Ginny had seen her friend's broken state she got this terrible intuition something bad had happened, something Harry wouldn't be able to help with.

"Out", she had told him and after a weak nod from Hermione he had done so begrudgingly.

Hermione murmured something.

"What did you say?" Hesitantly she stroked the other girl's hair.

Hermione's gaze slowly focused on her. It hurt Ginny deeply to see her strong friend like this.

The older girl was her idol in many ways and to see her in that way, that something horrible like his had happened to her just seemed absurd. It was wrong, so wrong.

"Because..." Hermione whispered, "Because I think she didn't do it entirely on her own accord. I think... something is wrong with her."

"Well, that is certainly true! Hermione, she wanted to RAPE YOU!" So much for her patience but to hell with this.

"I can't believe you! Someone did something like this to you, something she can go to AZKABAN for and you, you... you DEFEND HER?!"

Hermione closed her eyes.

"Please don't scream. You saw her, Ginny, you saw her after the second task. She is sick. It has something to do with her Veela nature... "

"YOU'RE NOT BLAMING HER?!"

"Of course I do..."

Ginny's body was shaking from her rage.

"Look, I know you have the best heart on this planet, but whatever Fleur is, whatever she has.. she knew about it! She should have done something about it, get help! It doesn't justify doing something like this! Hermione!"

Her friend still had her eyes closed.

"I had time... to think about this. Ginny, I hate her for doing what she did, but... but I just think I... I might have..."

"Might have what?"

But whatever Hermione had wanted to say, she changed her mind about it.

"You know how she acted towards me, how hostile. I think she tried to fight her.. her desire for me. I think it is something she has no choice about. Remember how her sister pleaded with you?"

Ginny huffed desperately. "Hermione, it doesn't matter with how much you come up.. it doesn't excuse anything for me. Even if this wasn't Fleur's fault... she is dangerous. We have to warn people, we have to prevent she does this others and actually succeeds with it!"

"What do you want to do, lock her up?"

"Yes, I think that's what I want! And I think it's what you should want too!"

Hermione rose from her shoulder and stared at her. Her eyes were strangely blazing.

"You don't know what she is, what she has and you want to lock her up?", she asked.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione she's a Veela! A creature!"

"She quarter a Veela-"

"Well she behaved like one! Like a bloody animal!"

Both of them regarded each other incredulously.

Hermione blinked. "This. This is the same kind of thinking that brought houselves where they are now. And centaurs and werwolves!"

"You can't compare-"

"Yes, I can! WE can and we must! Lupin did terrible things, violent things in his full moon nights and we can't blame him for it! And as long as I don't know Fleur's condition I can't judge her.. entirely. I have to... I have to read..."

Ginny couldn't believe her ears. She closed and opened her mouth again.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe it is a spell and you're under it already. Have you thought about that?!"

Hermione looked her straight in the eye.

"You were under a spell once. And you did things. Wouldn't you know?"

It crushed Ginny's anger right this instant. Even after two years she was haunted by what she did under the influence of Tom Riddle's diary.

"That's... that's not fair."

"It's not fair to her either."

Ginny shook her head.

"I thought you hated her. And now she did this - and you don't anymore?"

Hermione turned her gaze away. Her eyes looked haunted and pain struck.

"I... I don't know what to feel. But you must.. you must promise me not to tell anyone, not even Harry and Ron -"

"What?!"

"- what happened. Please. I have to know more. I will talk to people. An if I find out she wasn't controlled... I will report her. But I have to do this on my own first."

Ginny got to her feet.

"Right. Considering I would let you do this... how would you prevent her from hurting you again?"

"That's easy", Hermione replied quietly. "I just have to make sure I'm never alone. She won't do anything. She is too worried about her... her reputation."

"Her reputation!"

Hermione took her hand.

"Ginny, she stopped. She didn't go through with it."

"You pushed her!"

"And she stayed away. I just... need to research. Imagine no one would have known you did what you did in your first year under magical influence. What would people have done to you? What would they have suspected? You owe her this chance on your own behalf, Ginny Weasley."

After that Ginny was silent for a while. She thought, she steamed with anger, she was filled with unpleasant memories she just wanted to forget. Not believing herself she closed her eyes.

"Fine. You really know how to play your cards. But I'm your friend and that comes first for me. I give you four days Hermione, not more! If you don't find out anything until then I swear on Merlin's beard I report her to Dumbledore, if you like it or not. And if she tries to do something until then to you, I'll hex her to oblivion!"

And then Hermione did something she had never done before, if it was not to comfort Ginny;

she hugged her.

Ginny returned the gesture surprised but eagerly. Hermione felt fragile, way to fragile.

"You stupid girl. You're like Harry! You always want to save everyone."

She felt Hermione smile against her shoulder. "I take that as a compliment."

Ginny stepped away and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders.

"But promise me, promise me you'll be careful. Maybe you don't want to realize it... but you actually might have that.. what did you call it last summer... Stockholm syndrome?"

Hermione stared at her.

"She hardly held me captive, Ginny-"

"I know you, Hermione Granger. And Berty Botts knows why, but I think you actually _want_ to find another reason behind her behavior. You don't want to believe she's bad."

And for the first time she found Hermione was speechless at something she had said.

She smiled weakly.

"I'm no stupid either, you know."

* * *

Appoline Delacour stood a the sick bay's window and stared out to the night.

Fleur watched her mother from her bed through narrowed eyes, a sleeping Gabrielle in her arms.

Their mother had sent the girl to magical sleep soon when their conversation turned loud.

Now it had been a while since the half Veela had spoken.

"You know Fleur... that this would never had happened if you had accepted and prepared for what you are. If you had listened to me."

Fleur bit her lip.

"You tell me again. Now? Now, mother?"

Appoline turned around and faced her. As usual her expression was unreadable.

"Yes. It has brought you exactly what I told you it would. Pain, the loss of your body control, your _mental _control. And above all, it reduced you to two separate parts. And your Veela part has gone astray..."

"Astray."

"It has chosen a... female."

Fleur released a shaky breath and instinctively tightened her arms around her sister.

"I won't have this conversation with you, mother. I thought you came here to _help _me..."

"Don't you dare speak to me like this! I did! I left the ministry in the middle of my assembly to fly to Britain! Don't you use that tone with me!"

Fleur lowered her gaze to her bandaged arms. The nurse, Madam Pomfrey, had told her for some reason her body didn't react to the healing spells. She had been about to make an ironic remark when her mother had ushered the poor woman out of her own revier.

The older woman stepped closer to her now and took her hand into a strong grip.

She leaned forward vigorously and Fleur could smell her heavy perfume.

"You know only they can help you now. I have written to your great-grandmother. She is willing to take you in!"

Fleur stared first at her and then at the hand holding hers. She tried to remember the last time her mother had held her hand... and if it had felt this unpleasant.

"How could you?", she whispered.

"You yourself wouldn't have it any other way! Now is the time, Fleur! She is the only one who can help you!"

Fleur felt her eyes wetten and quickly brushed them of with her hand.

"She will try turn me into a full one! And you know that! If they don't punish me..."

"Fleur", her mother pleaded. "You _are _one of us! How can you deny it now wh-"

"I AM NOT!"

Her voice was hoarse but roared through the sick bay with an inhuman volume anyway. She shuddered. Her mother let go of her hand. Fleur pressed her eyes together, holding the tears back. Her mother wouldn't see her cry.

"I'm human. I'm human, you hear me? Like Gabrielle."

When she opened her eyes again she thought her mother's face showed emotion for the split of a second. She wasn't sure what kind.

Then the moment passed.

"You know our country, Fleur, you know our society", she said flatly. "Do you want to go back there as a _human_? Well, in this state, my sweet, nobody will buy you are one. You don't act human. You don't look human." She pointed at Fleur's nails. Fleur let them disappear in Gabrielle's hair.

"And with a _girl_ as a _mate_." Appoline's face hardened in disgust. "I want to see how´you do that. If you continue this stupidity, Fleur, you will not only loose yourself but ruin your family and your sister! The law was changed back five years, Fleur. There are still many who distrust us. Do you want to destroy what our kind has worked so hard for? You would play the full blooded right into their hands!"

She huffed. "If it would be for someone that is there for you... but for someone like her? A little girl that doesn't even want you one bit but is scarred of you? Runs from you? What future is there for you?!"

Fleur looked at her with frightened eyes... that was when the door burst open and a furious Madam Pomfrey stormed in.

"You stop unsettling her this minute! We don't even know what she has, but she needs rest! I thought her mother of all would respect that!"

AS through a veil Fleur noticed how her mother stormed out and Madam Pomfrey started to put salves onto her. While she tried to numb the raging thoughts in her mind and the once again rising need for this girl, this beautiful, sweet cursed girl...

Minutes or hours later she felt a strangely old hand touch her arm.

She looked up an endlessly long silver beard, up to kind eyes behind half moon glasses.

She blinked.

"My dear Miss Delacour. I believe we should have a talk."

Dumbledore waved his hands and somewhere outside a beetle was blown out the window.


	10. In the hollow paths of the moor

A beautiful autumm day/night to you all! Isn't it just an inspiring season? So, this chapter was very hard work but I hope I did it justice. I'm very excited about what you think about this, so please review! French translations now are on the bottom. Enjoy!

* * *

It still snowed and yet the tranquil white surrounding them didn't seem to ease the madness that had invaded Hermione's life.

No matter where she was going people whispered about her, giggled, bawled or asked her if she could brew them a love potion. She was starting to get a real idea of how Harry must have been feeling all the time and when she told him so she earned a brotherly pat on her back.

However despite annoying and irritating her and of course the outrageous concern she had for Hagrid after his exposure now, Reeta Skeeter's articles let her mostly unfazed. It was strange how used she had become to people ignoring her - ignoring their ridiculous attention now didn't seem too far stretched. If anything it made her painfully aware how few people were actually able to use their reason in this castle... then again both of her best friends sometimes weren't very versed in these matters either.

Most people at Hogwarts had settled with the explanation that the french language and academic ambition had brought Fleur and Hermione together - their fight in the library now was generally interpreted as a heated discussion. They concluded Fleur was a heartless wrench who despised her little sister; no one seemed to notice the French's loving behavior to the little girl.

Harry had gently approached her on everything after her encounter with Ginny but had respected it when she had told him she needed time. Ron just kept asking her about introducing Fleur to him, no more word of contemplating with the enemy!

Now, sitting at the Gryffindor table she absentmindedly listened to Ron's bragging on his heroics in the lake, her eyes fixed onto an empty spot at the Ravenclaw table.

Fleur hadn't been seen since the second task. Rumor had it she was seriously ill and even that her mother had come to visit, though no one had yet seen her.

She had to think of her last image of the girl, as she had knelt on the cold forest ground with her chest bared, ivory skin glistening with sweat in the sun, so vulnerable and so beautiful.

It didn't seem to fit in with the images of moments before. The truth was that Hermione knew what she ought to feel about this; and she did feel it. Often at night she woke up in sweat, breathing heavily on the memory. Abhor, fear, confusion, fright... but other feelings crept into them, distorting and twisting her mind to a point where she did what she rarely had ever done: she banned them from her thoughts and tried to think of something else.

_Pudding,_ she thought loud and clearly, fixing the wobbly mass in front of her.

She heard french whispering and looked up again to meet angry stares of Beauxbatons...

they always looked angry at her now... she wondered what they knew.

Then she felt another pair of eyes on her just to avert when she captured their gaze.

Viktor. He had largely kept his distance since he second task and she had no doubts whatsoever about why; he feared the Vela that had marked her property. She couldn't blame him really.

It didn't hinder her though to stand up when she saw him heading towards the entrance and she cornered him in the next corridor.

"Do you believe I slipped you a love potion?", she asked him with a wary smile. "Or what is the reason you have been ignoring me?"

Viktor sighed and took of his hat, kneading it nervously. He wouldn't look at her.

"It vasn't my intention. I fear I have no choice Hermoninny."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Do you know what she did to me?"

Viktor gripped his hat tighter. "Vat did she do?"  
Hermione took a deep breath.

"She almost raped me in the forest."

A long silence followed this in which Viktor closed his eyes.

When he gripped her arm it was so sudden Hermione twitched.

"Listen to me!", he whispered frantic. "You must speak to this to Dumbledore! He vill know or help... I... you can't put yourself in front of a Vela... you - "

He stopped and looked up. Hermione followed his gaze to the nearest stair case.

There, in heavy satin robes stood a female figure, her face hidden behind a veil that fell from her head. In her hand was a small elegant suitcase and even though she just stood motionless a power radiated from her, that rose the goosebumps on Hermione's skin.

Viktor turned white. To her greats surprise he pulled her into a fierce short embrace.

"Do vat I told you! I'm sorry."

With that he stormed away. When she looked back to the staircase the woman had vanished.

* * *

They left the castle at noon the next day to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was a little milder but by the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, all three of them already felt half frozen.

The food Sirius had told them to bring was in Harry's bag; they had sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table.

They went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present for Dobby, where they had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. At the Honeypot Harry bought Hermione a big bag of bat bonbons, her favorite, and offered them to her with a sheepish smile. She accepted this silent gesture of support with a big smile and gentle touch of his shoulder. Then, at half past one, they made their way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village.

Hermione had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay.

Hermione was absorbing the beautiful scenery when Harry suddenly hold up one arm, prompting them to stop.

"What?", Ron asked him. "Have you seen Siri-, uhm, Snuffles?"

"No... shh-st. Don't you hear that?"

Both Ron and Hermione strained their ears. Finally Hermione could make out the faintest of melodies, a soft voice caring over to them.

_"...Fais dodo mon petit homme_

_Car ta maman près du berceau_

_Veille sur ton léger somme_

_Jusqu'à demain jusqu'à demain_

_Fais dodo..."_

"Someone is singing..."

Exchanging looks they slowly staggered towards the voice's direction until they finally stood at the edge of a tiny clearing that looked like a snow cave.

There they witnessed a sight that took Hermione's breath away. In the middle of the clearing on a blue blanket sat a Beauxbaton girl in a hooded robe, holding a smaller girl in the same attire close to her chest.

Both of them shared the silvery blond hair that slipped out of their hoods. The older on continued to sing:

_"Ton père au grand banc de Terre Neuve_

_Dans la brume un soir a péri_

_Mon p'tit gars pitié pour sa veuve_

_Ne va pas sur le flot maudit..."_

Ron's mouth fell open and even Harry's eyes started to glaze over slightly.

Hermione's brows knitted together, her breath tuned shaky.

She watched how gently Fleur tickled Gabrielle's stomach, who giggled but soon snuggled closer into the warm embrace of her sister.

The smile on Fleur's tired face looked so soft and loving, Hermione couldn't stand it.

She shouldn't smile like this. She shouldn't be allowed to smile this.

"Come on", she heard her own voice from far away.

"Sirius waits for us..."

Far from gentle she started to shove the senseless boys back up the path leading to the cottages, sending one last glance over her shoulders to the sisters.

Quickly she ran up the path.

They turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. And before any of them could discuss what they had seen, waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar..

* * *

"_Mais bientôt tu seras un homme_

_Tu riras de ma folle terreur_

_Et tu navigueras tout comme_

_Tes frères aînés marins sans peur..."_

"Fleur?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think the little boy did become a sailor?"

Fleur hesitated.

"I hope not. But the water is cursed. He has to become a strong man to resist it."

"Why is the water cursed?"

Fleur looked down into her little sister's white face, reddend by the cold.

"It's just a song, Gabrielle. Don't worry about it. Didn't you like it?"

"Yes, I liked it very much. But can't you sing something happy?"

"No more singing for me today, my sweet. You know that horrible nurse forbid me to sing."

Gabrielle ducked her head into her hood.

"I'm sorry. Fleur..."

"Yes?"

"You only sing happy songs when you _are_ happy, don't you."

Fleur poked her nose and quickly presented a sickle from her pocket.

"We sat in the cold far to long. Here, take this and go into that sweet shop. Bring me something

as well."

Excited Gabrielle stomped to her feet, grabbing the coin with both hands.

"What should I bring you?"

"Something I like."

Gabrielle laughed at the challenge.

"One condition."

Fleur arched an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"You have to smile when I get back!"

Fleur chuckled. "I promise." And before Fleur knew her sister had ran away up the path.

Exhausted she lay back onto the blanket and had to cough a little.

Even though she had mostly layed of the symptoms the Vela had shown before... before the incident she had managed to catch a cold in her weakened state.

She looked up the large snow adorned trees up to the village. She wondered where it was exactly her mother had retreated to. And once again the old man's, Dumbledore's words replayed in her head. Quickly, though it was unusual for her, she pushed he thought away.

"What a sweet little thing she is. Not like you at all", a snarling voice broke the clearing's silence.

Fleur's head shot up and she looked at Rita Skeeter, who was standing right before her, holding a crocodile leather robe tightly around herself.

Angry Fleur rose to her knees.

"You! _Vous rat sale! _'ow did you get 'ere? Did you eavesdrop on us?!"

The reporter woman shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the blanket, awkwardly so because of her high heels. There was no way she walked his path down in these heels.

"What do you think?", she said with a horrible smile.

"What are you so afraid of someone could hear? Something you've done perhaps? Something... _illegal?_"

Fleur felt the blood draw from her face.

"What... what are you talking about?"

"My dear. I'm a reporter and I don't like to waste my time, especial not on a cold day like this.

I know your little secret. I know what you have done. Oh, don't make a face like that, I need you to hear me out. I'm sure you're wondering right now... why hasn't she reported me? Why hasn't she written an awe full article about the evil, evil Vela and sent you and your precious little family right to jail?"

Despite her pumping heart Fleur lept forward.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"... the _answer _is..." Skeeter continued as though she hadn't heard her, "That you have something. Something that I want."

Fleur regarded the older woman closely, trying to control the fear and despite thundering in her.

"If you know what I am", she whispered, "You know what I am capable of. I could cut your zroat in a second..."

To her surprise Rita started to chuckle.

"Oh, my dear! Do you think I'm so stupid? I'm sue you remember my photgrapher friend,no? In case I should not return tonight I told him there is a nice little cover story waiting for him on... where? Well I should better not tell you, should I?" She laughed as though she had made a terrific joke.

Fleur swallowed hard. "What is it zat you want?"

* * *

When they returned from the mountain, all soaked and exhausted Hermione didn't contribute much to Harry and Ron's heated discussion on what Sirius had told them about Barty Crouch.

As much as she tried to, she wasn't able to concentrate on it. When they had reached the center of the village she told her friend she needed to buy some more parchment. With an eye roll they said goodbye to her and trodded of towards the castle.

AS soon as they were out of sight however Hermione returned to the path they had come from.

She returned to the clearing but she found it empty now, just a mole in the snow where the blanket had layed.

Her feet carried her back to the scampered cottages, looking at them in wonder. She knew that some of the Professors lived in those... she smiled when she made one out, which door was adorned with a ribbon in a Scottish checked pattern. At least she had figured one out.

A sudden bell ring tore her from her thoughts. Confused she looked around until she saw a small little building with a lopsided bell tower attached to it. Could it be...?

Curious she walked to the building and entered it.

It was indeed a church though a modest one. There was hardly any decoration apart from the wooden crosses and statues at the walls.

Like in the great hall candles were floating in the air, these however seemed to emit a softer glow.

Suddenly Hermione stopped; she wasn't alone.

In front of the altar a girl with knelt on the floor, her silver hair moist from the snow outside, her hands palmed in prayer.

She lent back at a single column, her mouth slightly open in shock at the feelings rising in her.

She watched how the girl whispered in french then signed of the cross.

She seemed awfully cold, her slender shoulders shaking.

Tentatively Hermione raised a hand and mumbled a quiet spell.

Suddenly the torches framing the altar ignited in blue fire, that slowly turned red and orange.

The kneeling girl straightened her back.

"I 'ave seen you lightening zese flames in the corridors for your friends. They are very good."

Hermione shook her head.

"What are you doing?"

"I am praying..."

"Cut this crap."

Her voice echoed uncomfortably loud through the church, but Hermione found she didn't care.

"You hypocrite! Singing lullabies to your sister, kneeling in a church like a good little girl... and to, to look like you do! Like you look for pity! Like you never did what you did!"

Slowly and still on her knees Fleur turned around.

Her face shone beautiful in the fire light, her hands were pressed onto her thighs.

But her eyes remained lowered.

Hermione shook at her sight.

"When one commits a sin", Fleur said in a quiet voice. "One should repent. And ask for forgiveness."

Hermione released a shaky, bitter laugh.

"Oh! OH REALLY? And who do you ask for it, God?"

"Among ozers. Do I really already deserve to ask for _your_ forgiveness?"

"_I_ deserve an explanation", Hermione replied coldly.

Fleur cringed and lowered her head.

"I lost control -"

"You don't say-"

"I tried! I tried for montzs and montzs... not to come close to you. But then you touched me, when you 'ealed zat wound... for a moment I zought I would loose it right zen. I was in pain for weeks, I got drunk, my body... changed. Do you know 'ow it is? To be forced by your own nature to become oblivious of everyzing and focus on one sole person, a girl zat is fifteen years old...I lost control of the beast in me. It... it took me over... my instincts took over... I didn't know what I was doing anymore, 'ermione..."

"Do you I think I knew what you were doing when you were pinning me to that tree?!"

"Non, non... I just try to make you understand..."

Her voice fainted into frustrated remorse; Hermione hated herself for letting it get to her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. The warmth and and sweet smell emitting from the candles levitating around them clouded her senses...

"So you want me to believe... after what you did to me... that all of this wasn't your fault? That it was the doing of a second consciousness hat just suddenly appeared out of nowhere and made you want to rape me?"

She could see how Fleur flinched at her every word. Her eyes shimmered but then the stone mask Hermione had become so familiar with at he beginning of the year returned to her face.

"It.. I never wanted rape you. You don't understand. You don't understand... even right now... I can 'ardly zink clearly... I feel like I don' know who I am anymore..."

A bitter chuckle emerged from the blond's lips.

"Ze candles 'elp a little."

"The candles? How?"

"Zem and you fire, zey cover your smell."

Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath. The soft broken voice filled her and begged for sympathy. She had to think of the song she had heard earlier by this angelic voice...

_Your father, in the great banks of Newfoundland,_

_Perished one evening in the haze._

_My little boy, have mercy on his widow,_

_Don't go on the cursed water._

_But you will soon be a man,_

_You will laugh at my crazy terror_

_And you will sail just like_

_Your older brothers, sailors without fear._

"You were getting so weak... you seemed deadly sick after the second task. But you were quicker than everyone else. And afterward you broke down until you...why?"

Fleur sighed and lowered her head as if she couldn't carry it's weight any longer.

"Water is close to the Veela's nature.. it is where zey first were born. It was were zey were cursed."

_Don't go on the cursed water._

_But you will soon be a man,_

_You will laugh at my crazy terror_

_And you will sail just like_

_Your older brothers, sailors without fear._

"Why haven't you reported me, 'ermione? Why do you even dare to be 'ere? You should try to be as far from me as you can. I would if zere wasn't a contract binding me 'ere..."

For he first time Fleur raised her head and their eyes met.

A thick lump formed in Hermione's throat from all the paradox feelings arising in her. She was fast to turn away. For a long while she just stared at the levitating candles.

"That was my first kiss you know."

She didn't dare to look at Fleur but the other girl remained silent. It was as though somebody had put the denial she had struggled with for days into her mouth now, like confession forced onto her.

"There was someone interested in me... and now he's so scarred of you he won't even go near me. But I didn't like him like he did, I.. I just felt like finally someone saw me as something different than bookish, noisy Hermione Granger. And then you came and the truth is..."

Her eyes fluttered and she pressed them together. A single tear ran trough her closed lids down her cheek.

"The sick truth is a part of me liked it. Your touch. And I don't know if it is this, this spell, this crazy Veela thing in you or just my own crazy desperation for... for someone to..."  
She couldn't speak further.

Angrily she wiped the tears from her cheeks that were now running freely.

How stupid she was. She nearly had to laugh at the hole craziness of the situation when she felt something wet grace her hands and her heart flutter.

When she opened her eyes she saw that Fleur now knelt in front of her, holding her left hand between her own, pressing it to her lips.

She was composed but there were undoubtedly tears moistening the back of her hand.

"Pardonnez-moi"; Fleur whispered softly. "Pardonnez-moi, pour ce que j'ai fait te..."

She kissed her fingers, one after one and finally held it to her cheek and closed her eyes.

"I never meant for you to feel zis way. I never, never meant to do zis."

Hermione stared down at her hand that was pressed to so smooth, cold skin. Slowly she lowered herself down until she was squated in front of the girl.

"Didn't you know? Didn't your mother warn you of all this?"

Fleur sniffed and chuckled weakly.

"Ah, my mozer... my mozer is very proud of ze Veela... as I told you my fazer raised me to be 'uman and 'uman only. I am like you... I want to decide my fate on my own... and I never believed 'er. I never believed it would get so far."

"But you were wrong."

"Qui... I was wrong."

Fleur didn't move anymore. She just remained that way, couched on the floor with Hermione's hand pressed to her cheek. Hermione wondered why on earth she didn't pull away.

"So.. so what do we do about it?"

The question howered in the air like a threat.

Fleur didn't respond.

"Fleur?"

Still no answer.

"Fleur, listen. I need to understand this. If you don' want me to report me, you need to tell me more so we can figure out what to do..."

Silence.

"You need help, Fleur. Do you want to be like that again, actually go through it one day?"

The blond shook her head.

"We need to tell someone. Like Dumbledore.. he will know -"

"'e doesn't. Nobody knows about ze Veela but zemselves. 'e 'as no idea."

"'ow do you that? It's Dumbledore..."

Fleur's face hardened.

"Because 'e already talked to me."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"What did he say?"

"Nozing zat 'elped. 'ermione, I can't tell anybody... If ze word gets out my w'ole family is in danger. Ze laws for creatures are even stricter in my country zen in yours. Ze status of ze Veela 'asn't been changed too long ago... ze consequences... non, I believe I 'ave no choice but to go to zem..."

She wasn't making an sense anymore.

"What are you talking about`? Fleur?"

She moved her hand to her cheek but missed a little and bushed her neck.

Fleur hissed and jumped backward, fell to her fours.

Hermione staggered back in surprise as well.

"Don't do zat", Fleur panted. "You shouldn't touch me..."

Resignated Hermione sat down on the floor while Fleur retreated further back until she had reached the altar again.

Arrived there, breathing heavily, she whispered: "Do not worry. You won't 'ave to bear me much longer."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone.. someone saw us. And now blackmails me for knowledge of the Veela zat I don't 'ave. If zis get's exposed I ma ruin my family forever."

Hermione frowned and thought for a long while. Bits and pieces that had been twirling around in her head for some time now came together forming a clear answer.

"It's Rita Skeeter, isn't it?"

Fleur's eyes snapped open.

"'ow did you know?!", she gasped.

Hermione shrugged. "It seem only logical. She knows of every dirty little secret in these walls. She even found out about Hagrid. What does she want from you?"

Fleur looked at he with the eyes of a drowning person seeing a boat from afar.

"I... i cannot tell you. She 'as me at 'er mercy."

Hermione's frown deepened.

"Fleur, you have to tell me -"

"'ow can you care!", Fleur exclaimed. "'ow can you acre and be so nice after what I've done to you? After learning all zis, after seeing ze creature, 'ow? Why?"

Hermione's lips trembled. Why? she asked herself. Images ran through her head, images of houselves, centaurs, Dobby and Firenze... images of Fleur and her sister and of them both in the library...

she rose to her feet.

"Because I hate the oppression of magical creatures and people in this society. Because no one else seems to notice this. The discrimination among the wizards, the french as well it seems, just _repels_ me. Muggleborns, Veela, house elves.. it just isn't fair."

She had made fists while speaking. It had felt good to speak it out all loud.

"These are two different things. I will bother with your responsibilities, once we have solved this, if you restrain yourself. I warn you... I won't be as helpless as you had me in the forest again. Should you try anything again, I will report you immediately to Dumbledore. But I want to understand first. You have to tell me everything you know, about your country's laws and the Veela. Do you hear me?"

To her shock Fleur had stated to cry again. They were silent tears and the french girl shook her head violently.

"Why do you believe me? 'ow can you _believe_ me like zis?"

Hermione hesitated.

"I.. I see it in your eyes, I guess. I saw your struggle. I see how much you love your sister. I see that you can't be all bad..."

Inhumanly quick Fleur rose to her feet. Faster than the eye she had marched to Hermione, opening her mouth but nothing came out.

She sobbed, smiled,sobbed again.

Hermione didn't know what to do. The wave of determination that had washed over her was gone and again replaced by this bloody confusion.

Finally Fleur shook her head again and grasped Hermione's face in both hands. They burned on Hermione cheeks and her heart, torn in it's feelings, started to race.

Fleur pressed their foreheads together and stroked Hermione's face, who was overwhelmed by that smell again and the warmth. And the fear.

"Le diable envoie-moi un ange", whispered Fleur in her ear.

With that she abruptly let go and pressed something into Hermione's hand.

Than she literally ran out of the church out to the already darkening sky.

Open mouthed Hermione stared after her, before she lowered her gaze to the object in her hand.

It was a silver coin, plain on both sides.

* * *

The song I used is a beautiful real french lullaby called _Par les chemins creux de la lande_

Here is the full translation:

In the hollow paths of the moor,  
The black goblins, the werewolves,  
In the night, in a saraband  
Chase one another like mad.  
I hear a noise near the door,  
Close your eyes, my little boy  
The nasty werewolf takes away  
The children who don't sleep.

Sleep, my little man  
For near the cradle your mommy  
Watches over your light sleep  
Till tomorrow, till tomorrow  
Sleep.

Your father, in the great banks of Newfoundland,  
Perished one evening in the haze.  
My little boy, have mercy on his widow,  
Don't go on the cursed water.  
But you will soon be a man,  
You will laugh at my crazy terror  
And you will sail just like  
Your older brothers, sailors without fear.

Sleep, my little man  
For near the cradle your mommy  
Watches over your light sleep  
Till tomorrow, till tomorrow  
Sleep.

_Pardonnez-moi, pour ce que j'ai fait te_ : Forgive me for what I have done to you.

_Le diable envoie-moi un ange_ : The devil send me an angel.


	11. Diamagnetism

**Here we go, my friends. This becomes increasingly harder to write while my spare time decreases, sadly. Also I've had an anonymous review with a complaint of my deferred updating: dear 'guest' – I've updated his weekly so far and I have a life, sue me you prat. I know this doesn't concern you other lovely readers, but as advice: you are welcome to ask for updates, but I'm doing this for free and I put a lot of energy into it. Such reviews seriously annoy me – so flame me all you like about content or whatsoever, but spare me those. Now enjoy!**

* * *

Weeks passed by after their strange encounter in Hogsmeade and at some point Hermione started to think she might have imagined it all.

A few days Fleur was wandering the castle with her fellow Beauxbatons but she didn't even look at Hermione. Whenever this occurred the Gryffindor couldn't resist pulling the plain coin out, that she embarrassingly carried around with her at all times and would let it slide through her fingers but nothing ever revealed itself.

One faithful morning however, the whispers rising from the Daily Prophet readers became suspiciously loud - until some Slytherin girl threw a copy into Hermione's face.

"You don't stop at nothing, do you mudblood!", she hissed and while Harry tried with all his might to hold back Ron from ambushing the Slyterin table she was met with the portrait of her latest conquest: Fleur Delacour.

Shaking her head and swallowing a lump in her throat she let the paper sink to stare into the cold faces of her class mates.

"Oh really! Even you must admit that this is ridiculous!"

But she was met with silence, only interrupted by a few half-hearted statements of support and Ron's declarations of her untouched virtue. He seemed getting more purple while declaring this.

She heard the murmurs through out the day. Suddenly her interactions with Fleur were interpreted in a very different light what people had brushed of as a strange friendship now became a spiteful scheme.

The good part in this was that Ron's outrage went as far as to stop bragging her about an introduction to Fleur, who now was all enemy again. Yet she felt Harry's thoughtful glances on her and she knew her best friend was suspecting the truth about the situation.

_Whatever the truth is_ she thought miserably.

Deciding to face the enemy Hermione wrote to the Daily Prophet offices that very afternoon and when the post owls arrived the next morning, she looked up eagerly.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet", said Ron. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

"No, it's not that. I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."

"Good thinking!" said Harry, also looking up at the owls. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck -"

A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione.

"It hasn't got a newspaper, though," she said, disappointed. "It's -"

But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front of her plate, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" said Harry, seizing Hermione's goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.

"What on earth -?" Hermione said, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. "Oh really!" she sputtered, going red.

It was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.

YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE.

"What's up?" said Ron.

"It,'s - oh how ridiculous -"

She thrust the letter at Harry. "They're all like it!" she said desperately, opening one letter after another. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you... ' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn... ouch!"

She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils. A searing pain shut through her hands and she hissed.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

Tears started in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she was wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry as the owls around her took flight.

"We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone..."

* * *

Hermione felt very alone and disturbingly bitter when she sat on her bad in the empty hospital wing. Gazing out of the huge windows she saw her classmates, including Harry and Ron, making down their way to Hagrid's for their lessons.

She was so sick of that isolation, that separation she had from the others her age. She didn't need to be on quarantine to feel that.

That was when she felt a sudden burning on her hip. Thinking she might have caught some bubotuber pus there as will she quickly opened her robes... and the silver coin from Fleur fell onto the bed.

Frowning she tried to pick it up, but her swollen and bandaged hands made it difficult for her.

Finally she managed to bring it to her face and her eyes widened.

The coin wasn't plain anymore. Now, in elegant cursive letters, it read:

_I'll be with you in five minutes. Be alone._

"Amazing", she breathed out while for a blissful moment all her troubles vanished from her head as she tried to wrap her mind around how Fleur had managed that. What a piece of Transfiguration! What a -

"I see she 'as given you one of 'er coins."

Hermione looked up.

Above her stood a girl adorned in blue robes, long black hair falling down her back openly.

"Emanuelle", she said, baffled.

"May I sit?", the french girl asked politely.

"Ah... of course..."

Emanuelle sat down and stared at Hermione's hands.

"I am sorry for zat."

"Don't worry about it. I'm used to things like that."

The other girl's dark eyes flickered up to her.

She took the coin from her hands and a strangely bitter smile went over her lips.

"You know... she was twelve years old when she invented zem. Always ze best in class but not because she studied. She was a bit lazy, actually. Just... just very bright... one of ze best chasers Beauxbaton 'ad ever seen and ze biggest flirt of ze w'ole school."

Her hand tightened around the coin.

"You would be amazed 'ow she was zen. She 'ad everyone at her feed and picked who pleased 'er for ze day. Very supercilious, sometimes... but a good 'eart. Everyone was in love with 'er."

"And you as well", Hermione remarked with raised eyebrows.

For the first time Emanuelle really looked at her; the searing hatred in her eyes made Hermione flinch.

"What did you do?", she hissed. "What did you do zat she chose a little.. a little girl like zat! You torment 'er so, I 'ardly recognize 'er! And now even 'er mozer 'as come..."

Hermione let all the information sink down as she stared at the broken girl in front of her.

"It appears Fleur hasn't talked to you very much about what has happened between us."

"She tells me everyzing! We are best friends!"

Hermione shook her head.

"Then you should know about the mating of the Veela. It seems Fleur didn't really have a choice.. but she very well had a choice how to go about it and she messed that up hugely. So before you start blaming me, I suggest you have a talk with your 'best friend'."

Emanuelle looked as though she was about to strangle her, when Fleur appeared at the door.

"Emmanuelle!", she shouted harshly.

A quick look at the pair and the part Veela marched in, ambushing Emanuelle with a burst of french to quick for Hermione to understand. She was, however, alarmed to see the tears that started to build in Emanuelle's eyes.

Sobbing the girl stood and fled the room.

That left a very confused Hermione and a sighing Fleur who pressed her fingers to her eyes for a moment. The sun bathed her in a warm light and painted her silvery hair golden.

Hermione shook her had and sighed as well.

She felt Fleur's eyes on her as the french girl walked around her and placed something on her nightstand.

When Hermione looked to her left her mouth fell open slightly.

"I just picked zem in ze grounds", Fleur said softly. "I 'ope you like zem."

Hermione lent towards the flowers and breathed in deeply. She couldn't help but smile a little. _When was the last time someone gave me flowers? Was there even one time?_

"They're... it's strange", she muttered. "I almost forgot it is spring now..."

Slowly Feur lowered herself down on the bed, considerably further away than Emanuelle had.

"What did she talk to you about?", she asked warily.

"Oh... you know. About your times as glorious Casanova of Beauxbatons and on what I must have done to deprave your perfection."

Fleur sighed again and shifted uncomfortably.

"You must forgive 'er. I... didn't confide in 'er as much as I used to."

"You must have been very companionably."

Fleur's blue eyes looked up to her, an earnest in them Hermione had not witnessed so far.

"I used to be many zings, 'ermione", the blond said."But I always acted on my own will and took responsibility for my actions. Until now."

Tentatively she reached out a hand and rested it lightly on Hermione's bandaged one.

"I am very sorry for zis as well. Even when I stay away from you I seem to find ways to 'urt you."

The blond hang down her head.

"I believe zis was a warning."

Hermione didn't say anything. She looked at their hands and back to the girl that had invaded her life so much. The girl that almost raped her and now was holding her hand.

For some reason she had to think of Winky's hand, clutched around a bottle of butter bear.

"What does she want from you?", she asked bluntly.

For a brief moment Fleur looked up to her. She looked almost scared. Hermione felt an ugly sense of satisfaction at that.

"She offered me a bargain", Fleur said quietly. "She will make public what.. what I did to you... unless I share with 'er ze secrets of the Veela's eternal beauty. I told 'er zat I do not know zese secrets but she wouldn't believe me. I 'ave until ze end of the tournament."

* * *

Fleur watched how Hermione took a moment to process what she had told her.

How many times had she watched her during this year, from near from afar... and never had she seen that look of resignation and bitterness shadowing her beautiful features.

Together with the coldness she displayed now, she was completely different from the person Fleur had last seen in the church. She knew this was what she actually deserved... it didn't stop her from hurting, though.

Through the thick bandages she felt the warmth of Hermione's flesh and the unsteady beat of her pulse...

"Do Veela have eternal beauty?", Hermione asked finally.

Fleur shook her head.

"Ze full blooded, yes. We otzers.. time is much kinder to us zan to 'umans. Not even my mozer knows of zis secret... and if she would, it wouldn't matter. Ze Veela are very secret about their nature. Ze truth is 'ermione, zere is only one zing I can do."

"And what is that?"

"I must travel to my grandmozer's tribe... and ask zem for advice."

Hermione seemed to consider this; Fleur could see her mind working, the rushing and connecting behind her sad, brown eyes and she felt her heart beak.

Slowly the Gryffindor moved her hand from her own and pointed to her bag.

Fleur nodded and picked it up, carefully placing it on the brunette's lap.

With clumsy movements Hermione reached inside and presented a little book:

_Politics in Wizard France._

Fleur swallowed.

"My french isn't good enough for this", Hermione said steadily. "I think it's time you tell me your story."

They locked eyes until Fleur balled her left hand into a fist.

"What is zere to tell? People always seem to forget what Veela are... because zey are beautiful.

'Zey forget zey are creatures. But the ministry in France 'asn't forgotten. And when ze people saw zat other part of ze beauty, zey would quickly come to see zem as well for what... we can be, too.

My mozer's brozer... 'e fought 'is whole life for ze rights of ze Veela. You see - ze sons of ze Veela do only en'erit ze beauty of zeir mother, not ze terrible part zat comes with it. But 'e was.. 'e was uite like you, actually. Very stubborn and alwas wanting to 'elp people in need."

Hermione adverted her eyes at hat and Fleur bit her lip, couldn't she do anything right?

"'e spend a large part of 'is and my fat'er's fortune to... _bribe_, is it?"

Hermione nodded, her eyebrows scrunched together.

"Yes, bribe.. to bribe ze whole ministry. Zey 'convinced' zem zat zere are part Veela who can control zeir abilities and zat can live like any ot'zer wizard or witch. But since my uncle died... ze voices against us in the government 'ave risen again and my fazer's fortune is not enough to keep zem all quiet. Zere are not many Veela in France - most of zem are found in ze Slavic lands - as you per'aps noticed with Viktor's be'aviour. So ze manner isn't known to most. But to rich powerful it is a welcomed excuse to bring down my family. Ze consequences of zat woman writing about what I - " Fleur drew in a deep breath -" -'ave done to you... it is unimaginable. But I don't 'ave ze knowledge zat could prevent it and I.. in truth, 'ermione, I don't know what to do."

She let out a releaved breath after her little speech. She didn't dare look up into Hermione's face as she tried not give over to her feelings of loss and confusion.

Then suddenly a loud rumble broke the mutual silence and she looked up.

"Was zat your stomach?"

Hermione blushed. "Well. Thanks to Rita Skeeter I missed out breakfast..."

Smiling Fleur reached into her robes and handed Hermione a red and white stripped bag filled with biscuits.

"'ere, 'ave zem. Zey were sent to me by my fazer."

Hermione stared at her and down at the biscuits.

"You know, sometimes I wonder how things would have been between us, if it wasn't for your Veela nature."

Fleur studied her carefully but chose not to respond. He remark left her feeling even more sad.

"Is it true your mother is here, Fleur?", Hermione asked quietly, her face unreadable.

Fleur hesitated.

"Yes, she is. She is still... contemplating what to do."

"I want to speak to her."

"_Quoi?!"_"

"Yes. If you want my help... I need to speak to someone that truly knows about the Veela. But I promise you in _any_ case - I won't let that woman destroy your family."

While Fleur still looked with desperation into those brown eyes Hermione reached for the biscuits in the bag - her bandaged hands however didn't move as planned. Just as the bag was about to fall to the ground Fleur jumped forward with inhuman speed and caught it.

Only when she clutched it to her chests she realized she was now hovering about Hermione, her thighs framing the girl and their faces only inches apart.

Hermione's breath had hitched and she saw her pupils widen.

A terrifyingly familiar ache spread though her. Unconsciously she bowed down. It was like magnetism - inevitable. Hermione just smelled so good - her face, though defiant was so open and vulnerable right now. She didn't flinch away but stiffened when Fleur put her hand to her cheek.

Desire once again took over Fleur's body and she felt the inhuman strength and voice coming back to her.

She closed her eyes.

"_No..._"

She strained every muscle in her body to keep where she was, but couldn't bring herself to move away either.

It became difficult to breath; especially so when something was pressed onto her mouth...

her eyes snapped open.

Hermione's face was just beneath her, her brown eyes open but her lips connected to her own.

The brunettes gaze was clouded.

She released a breath flowing into Fleur's mouth... her wet tongue gazed her own upper lip.

"Bon sang!" Fleur cried and ripped away from her. She sat upright, her thighs still around Hermione and looked down at the suddenly frightened girl. Fleur breathed in heavily.

"What are you doing?!"

"I... I don't know", Hermione whispered. Her gaze was still clouded over. At the same time she looked confused... and worse, aroused.

Her eyes flickered to the legs framing her and her arm slowly moved. The exposed flesh beneath her bandages grazed the thin layer covering Fleur's thighs.

Fleur skipped down again forcefully, her face pressed onto Hermione's.

The desire was painful.

She felt Hermione's hand wandering to her hip and she clenched her nails into the sheets beneath them.

"_Are you mad?", _she whispered against Hermione's eyes and her lips touched her forehead.

"Do you _want_ me to loose control?!"

Hermione shook her head beneath her.

"No, I... I just want -"

Forcefully Fleur raised her arms and sat up slightly so Hermione could see her lenghtend nails.

"Do you see zat?", she shouted with tears in her eyes. "Zis is what zis does to me, what is inside of me! What you feel is not real! Fight it!"

Hermione's eyes were still transfixed to her lips and the look on he face made Fleur shudder.

She acted as though she was drugged.

"But it feels real", she whispered almost inaudibly.

For a moment they remained that way, Fleur's clawed arms still outstretched.

Slowly, ever so slowly Hermione lifted her head upward, bringing her lips to her own, her eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions - and Fleur _knew,_ she knew she wouldn't be able to resist this time...

"Merlin's knickers!", someone shouted.

Fleur literally flew backwards onto the bed and Hermione gasped.

Hissing with a voice not her own Fleur's gaze shot to the intruder;

Ginny Weasley stood there, her eyes wide and jumping between the two, her mouth wide open.

She felt Hermione sit up beneath her and sigh loudly.

"Why does everything always have to become more and more complicated?"

* * *

**Now it really gets confusing in both hearts, eh? Please leave a note on what you think! If I can write eleven chapters, you can write me a line ;)**


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